Until You are Home Again
by Ziva- Zia- Z
Summary: Fleeing the cliffs of Ireland for the sands of Israel; sending them to live with a family who'd care for them until they could return. In the time gone in the years passed, they'd discover how their children changed, how deeply Israel had settled in their blood, how dangerous the paths they'd chosen could turn & where those paths would take them. AU McGiva. Written Feb.-June 2011.
1. Chapter 1

**... Until You are Home Again**

 **Rifiuto: Non Mirena**

 **Summary: They had no choice. Like rats fleeing the sinking _Titanic_ , they fled the Emerald Isle in fear for their lives. For the safety of their family, they separated, fleeing the cliffs of Ireland for the sands of Israel; brushing kisses to their heads and sending them to live with a family who would take care of them, until they could return. And in the time gone, in the years passed, they would discover just how much their children had changed, just how deeply Israel had settled into their blood, and how dangerous the paths they'd chosen could turn, and where, exactly, those paths would take them. AU. McGiva. Written February - June 2011. **

_"To be Irish is to know that, in the end, the world will break your heart."_

 _\- Daniel Patrick Moynihan,_

 _1927 - 2003_

 _Belfast,_

 _Ireland_

 _1988_

"Now you listen to me, Sarah Aileen. This is what's best, _ye_ hear me? We don't _'ave_ a choice."

"But I want to 'tay with you."

"You can't, baby. It's _no'_ safe for you. We near lost Timmy _las'_ month, _'member_?"

The girl turned to stare at her older brother, who was holding tight to the teddy bear his grandmother had given him before they'd left for the airport that morning. Though he was just four months shy of his tenth birthday, at the moment, he looked to be nothing more than a frightened child, terrified of venturing away from the only home he'd ever known.

"But _Mams_ -"

"No, Sarah. We have to do this. This is what's best for you and your brother." The girl shook her head, bursting into tears and throwing her arms around her mother's waist. Their father watched, tears in his green eyes as he told himself that they were doing right by their children. If they stayed, they might never survive to see their teenage years, let along adulthood; besides, there was a nice family waiting to take them in-

 _Home Children, that's what my babies are becoming. Like... immigrant children sent to Canada during the early twentieth century to work on farms or as domestic help._

He shook his head; no. That was not what his children were becoming. They were being sent away for a chance to survive. A chance to thrive, and prosper, and grow. And the family... the family that had agreed to take them...

 _We have two girls and a son; it is relatively safe where we live, in central Tel Aviv, though we do spend summers at the beach and winters in Be'er Sheva. They will get good meals and a good education, and strong support in everything they do. You may contact them as often as you wish; however, because we are Jewish, we do observe our holidays. They may observe if they wish, unfortunately, there is no Catholic Church for them to attend, though we do possess a couple bibles they may read if they so choose. We will treat them as though they were our own, and look forward to meeting them soon._

He swallowed, closing his eyes briefly. Jews. He was sending his children into the waiting arms of Israeli Jews. He had nothing against the family nor the Jewish people- no, he was concerned about the violence the Israelis faced at the hands of the Palestinians. Was he trading one war zone for another, sending his innocent children to be the sacrificial lambs? Should he have sent them to Canada, or even America instead?

 _No. You have already made the arrangements; you cannot back out now. They are willing to take them for however long these Troubles last. You should be grateful._

And while he was, there was that small, niggling kernel of apprehension at the back of his mind. Had he made the wrong choice?

"Listen _t'_ me, Sarah. _Ye 'ave t'_ do this. _'tis bette'_ for all of us. _Ye_ will be safe, _'tis_ all _Da an'_ I _wan'_ for _ye an' yer brothe'. Undestan'?_ "

Slowly, the girl nodded, hiccuping. Without a word, his wife wrapped their youngest in her arms, humming a soft lullaby as she gently stroked her hand through the dark red curls. Sarah clung to her mother, frightened beyond words to be leaving Ireland. While she clung to their mother, her older brother sat apart, perched on his suitcase, clinging tight to the teddy bear Penny had given them. She was bound for America in a couple days, but hadn't been able to get away from work to see her only grandchildren off at the airport. So their goodbyes had been said that morning over breakfast-

Their mother had outdone herself, insisting that her babies have one last, good, strong Irish meal before they leave, for the good Lord above only knew when they'd taste the sweet richness of their homeland again. She'd then wrapped two small loaves of soda bread in cloth and slipped them into her children's carry-ons, along with a small leather pouch filled with charms and small trinkets- silver horseshoes, delicate four-leave clovers made of white gold, trinity knots, tree of life pendants, stones from the streams near Clontarf, where she'd been born, a small book of psalms, two silver Claddagh Rings that had belonged their father and aunt, two small St. Brigid crosses, two rosaries with Celtic crosses, and two small flags of Ireland- to remind them of where they came from. Around their throats, hung silver medallions baring the effigy of St. Christopher, patron saint of travelers, who would protect them on the flight.

"Attention. We will now begin boarding for Flight three-sixteen, bound for Tel Aviv. All passengers on Flight three-sixteen for Tel Aviv, we will now begin boarding."

Slowly, she released Sarah, gently brushing a wispy strand of hair out of her daughter's eyes. " _A chuisle tá grá agam ort."_ Sarah giggled, whispering the phrase back to her mother, before the woman stood, pressing a kiss to her head. She then turned to her son, going to him and kneeling before him. The boy looked up at her, angry tears in his green eyes.

"I wanna stay, Mams-"

"Hush, _me Tim'thy, me_ love. I _wan' ye t'_ stay. _Bu' ye canna. 'tis t'_ dangerous."

"Bu-"

" _Ye_ will be safer in Israel. I promise. _An'_ once _th'_ Troubles end, _ye_ can come home." She reached up, cradling her oldest son's face in her hand. A moment passed as she brushed tears off his cheeks, "Okay?" Slowly, the boy nodded, throwing his arms around his mother's neck. Gently, she rocked back and forth with her son, holding him close, whispering a prayer into his red locks. _"Tá grá agam ort."_ The boy whispered it back to her before pulling away. With one last firm kiss to his forehead, she let him go, standing as he and Sarah joined the other passengers and began to board. At one point, he looked back, tears in his eyes, before Sarah tugged his hand to continue down the terminal.

They stood with countless others, watching as the plane taxied down the runway and took off; her husband's strong arms wrapped around her waist, holding her close, and she quickly crossed herself. Taking a deep breath, she turned tear-filled eyes to the heavens, choking on a sob as she spoke,

"I pray _t'_ Christopher _f'r th'_ protection _an'_ safety of all aboard that flight, make sure it reaches Tel Aviv whole... _an'_ I... I pray _t'_ Brigid, patroness _o'_ our blessed isles... _an' t'_ Patrick _an'_ Columba, whom also guard our blessed country... watch over _me_ babes... pro... protect them as we would... keep _'em_ ever in _yer_ blessed _sigh' an'... an'_ bless the _Da_ vids... make sure they _'rive un'armed an'_ safe _int' th'_ arms _o' th' Da_ vid family... make sure they love our babes as we do... _an'_..." She swallowed. " _an'_ watch _ov'r_ all _o'_ us still _'ere, tha'_ we may... may find a swift end _t' th'_ violence in our land... so _tha'_ our babes may one day _ret'rn t'_ us. In Christ's name..."

She choked on the 'Amen' turning and burying her face in her husband's shoulder, as the realization of what they'd just done penetrated her brain, and tore open her heart.


	2. Chapter 2

**Rifiuto: Non Mirena**

 _Tel Aviv,_

 _Israel_

 _1988_

"We are just barely going to reach their terminal in time to pick them up. _Zivaleh, dahuf! Axshav! Ziva!_ "

Without a word, the girl rushed to catch up, dark pigtails bouncing. Finally, they reached the terminal, and the kids watched with wide dark eyes as the passengers exited the terminal. "I do not see them, Eli. How will we know what they look like?"

The boy tugged on his stepmother's sleeve. Her head snapped towards him. "If they are coming from Ireland, _Ima_ , then they will be white."

" _Arieh!_ " The boy winced at his father's tone. "We do not speak of guests that way."

"But if it is true-"

" _Abba_." Eli turned to the four-year-old holding tight to his hand. He knelt down until he was eye level with the girl.

"What is it, Talia?" The child pointed towards the terminal, and the man turned, straightening in time to watch two young children make their way out of the terminal. Both carried suitcases, and held tight to each other; the fear in their eyes seemed to radiate off their small bodies in waves.

"Is that them, _Abba_?" The boy asked, as his younger sister cocked her head, watching them. Though only seven, she was exceedingly observant, and found new things fascinating, often keeping quiet so she could absorb everything she was learning. Their father studied the children for a moment, before glancing at his wife.

"I think that might be them."

As he moved through the crowd, towards the boarding area to alert the stewardess, one of the crew came up through the terminal, making her way towards the pair. She held out what appeared to be a stuffed bear, which the boy took, and then gently ran her fingers through the girl's hair. She then directed them towards a waiting area, sitting them down before taking a seat across from them.

"Eli." He turned back to his wife, who nodded towards the scene.

"Ari?" The boy turned to his younger sister. "What is she doing?" He thought a moment, before shaking his head.

"I am not sure." The siblings watched as the stewardess spoke softly with the children, getting basic information from them before taking their passports; she unfolded a sheet of paper that she'd removed from the boy's, and quickly skimmed it, before looking up at the children and then turning to the crowd gathered to greet friends and relatives as they exited the plane.

A moment passed, before the woman stood, gesturing for the children to also stand. She then knelt before them, said something, and then took the boy's hand, leading them through the crowd of people. "Mr. and Mrs. _Da_ vid?" The pair nodded, and the woman seemed to relax. "Good." She glanced down at the children, both of whom had hidden behind her, peering around to stare at the family. "These are the McGee siblings- this is Timothy _an'_ his _siste',_ Sarah. Timothy said that you were _goin' t'_ be _lookin'_ after them?"

"Yes, we have... agreed to take them in until the... violence in their country dies down." Mrs. David replied, peeking around the stewardess to see the children, who'd returned to hiding.

"Good. Then I will leave them in _yer_ care. Their suitcases will be _a'_ baggage claim in _'bout fiftee'_ minutes." With a soft nod, she handed Timothy the note and then left, leaving the two children with what was now their surrogate family for the time being. Sarah immediately ducked behind her brother. Despite the din of noise and excited greetings, all the two children heard was silence.

"Oh, Eli, they are beautiful." Slowly, his wife knelt down until she was at level with the boy. " _Shalom_. You must be Timothy. My name is Rivka." The boy watched as she held out a hand; now that Rivka was at level, she saw just how beautiful the boy truly was- green eyes that had, sadly, seen far too much in their short lifetime, beautiful red hair, a smattering of freckles across his pale nose and cheeks. Cautiously, the boy reached out, placing his hand in hers. She gently folded her fingers over his, shaking slowly, a smile spreading over her features. "And this is your sister, Sarah?"

He nodded, pulling the girl closer. It was clear he felt he had to protect her. "Well, it is nice to meet both of you." She turned as her youngest made her way over, and slid an arm around the girl's waist, pulling her closer. "This is my youngest daughter, Talia," She glanced at her other two and then her husband. "My son, Arieh, and my other daughter, Ziva, and my husband, Eli."

The children barely paid attention; their wide green eyes were drinking everything in, from the dark hair to the dark eyes and olive skin-

The younger girl buried her face in her brother's shoulder, clinging to him. Both appeared frightened beyond belief, and really, who could blame them? They'd just spent nearly six hours on a plane out of Ireland, only to come to a strange, foreign land to live with a family of strangers until the violence in their own country died down enough so they could return.

 _I cannot imagine the terror they are experiencing at the moment. Millions of miles away from home, without their parents, left with strangers... they are braver than I could ever be._

She stood, turning to her husband and children. "Well, shall we take them home and get them settled?" She gave both children a small smile, before holding out a hand to Sarah. Slowly, the girl took it, even when she refused to let go of her brother. Rivka glanced at her husband, and he nodded.

 _At least this is a start._

As they led the McGee siblings to the baggage claim, their older daughter hung back, falling into step with the boy and his sister. She smiled quickly at him when he glanced at her, and a moment passed before he ducked his head and quickened his pace. Never dismissing a challenge, she kept up, pigtails bouncing as she followed him in her blue overalls and white t-shirt; her red sneakers mere flashes as she walked beside him. It wasn't until they reached the baggage claim that she actually spoke, turning to him.

"I am Ziva."


	3. Chapter 3

**Rifiuto: Non Mirena**

Dinner had been a quiet affair; neither sibling had said a word, and the _Da_ vids had allowed the silence to prevail, giving them time to adjust to being back on solid ground. The _Da_ vid children had watched in shock as the McGee kids quickly said grace, before eating; their parents watched with knowing looks- Eli and Rivka's closest friends had been Catholics before converting to Judaism. But to Ari and his sisters-

"They are very quiet."

Eli looked up from his book; after dinner, the family had retired to the living room- the news was on, turned down low, the windows were open, with the sounds of the city wafting up towards them. Rivka sat on the sofa, running a brush through her oldest daughter's shoulder-length hair, watching out of the corner of her eye. The McGee siblings sat on the floor near the hallway; Timothy was watching his sister play with the doll her mother had remembered to slip into her suitcase before they left for the airport. Ari was drawing, and Tali was having a tea party with her stuffed animals.

In other words, a typical night in the _Da_ vid household.

"Give them time, Rivka, they will get used to being here." Eli replied, returning to his book. His wife nodded, watching as Sarah turned to her brother, who sat cross- legged, staring out the open window, lost in thought. Perhaps he was imagining what his parents were doing that night, if they were okay, or what his friends were doing.

The former dancer turned back to her daughter, setting the brush down before she parted the girl's hair and began braiding down one side. After securing the first braid, she began work on the second, but stopped when Sarah turned back to her brother. The just-turned-five-year-old cocked her head, before saying something in a language none of the _Da_ vid children understood.

"What did she say, _Abba_?" Ari asked, turning to his father. Eli glanced at his son.

"It is their language, son."

"What is their language?" Ziva asked, turning to her mother. Rivka gently turned her daughter's head back to face forward.

"Irish, Zivaleh. They are from Ireland, after all. They speak Irish, just as we speak Hebrew."

"Oh." But suddenly, all activity stopped as the boy got up, dashing from the room. The door to the bedroom he'd been given slammed, and Rivka and Eli shared a glance. "What is wrong? Does he not like us, _Ima_?" Rivka sighed, gently tweaking her daughter's short braid.

"No, Zivaleh. Timothy is just missing his _Ima_ and _Abba_." She set the brush down and got up, excusing herself as she slipped down the hall. Once in front of the boy's bedroom, she knocked gently, waiting for a reply. "Timothy? Are you okay, _motek_?" She waited for several minutes, of which she got no reply. After several moment, she slipped into the room, making her way to the bed. The boy was curled up on top of the covers, holding tight to his teddy bear, harsh sobs shaking his small body. "Oh, Timothy. Shh, hush, it will be okay." She gently ran a hand through the boy's hair, before tugging him gently into her arms.

Naturally, he resisted, but eventually allowed the Israeli to pull him into her arms. The sound of her heartbeat began to calm the boy down, Rivka soon began rocking him gently, a soft lullaby falling from her lips. He clung to her, the desire to be in his own mother's arms, listening to her stories or her lullabies sending him into an even worse fit. Rivka continued humming, stroking his hair and rocking gently.

She looked up as the boy's sobs began to to subside, to see Ziva in the doorway, watching. Confusion filled the girl's dark eyes, and she studied the boy, curious as to why he was reacting in such a manner. Rivka sighed softly.

 _She does not understand. Until she is parted from Eli and I for an extended period of time, Zivaleh will never understand what these children are going through. And why should she? We are relatively safe at the moment._

"What is it, _ahavá_?"

The child swallowed, surprised that she'd been caught watching. After a moment, she asked,

"Will... will he be okay?"

Rivka glanced down at the boy. "In time. Both Timothy and his sister need time to adjust, and it is our job to give them that time. This is new, and it is frightening. But after a while, they will get used to it."

"Used to Israel?"

" _Ken._ " Ziva nodded, falling silent as she leaned against the door frame, watching intently as her mother worked on calming the boy down. She recognized the lullabies her mother was singing, and noticed how the boy's sobs finally seemed to calm, at least slightly. She studied the boy; he appeared to be at least a couple years older-nine, maybe- with red hair and very pale skin. And tonight, during dinner, Ziva had noticed the freckles that covered both his and his sister's noses. But what fascinated Ziva were the color of their eyes and their accents. She had never seen eyes so green, nor heard accents so thick and strange-

 _"Laila tov, motek."_ She watched her mother brush a soft kiss to the boy's head before gently laying him among the covers and tucking one of the quilts around him. Once done, she slipped out of the room and shut the door behind her as she gently guided Ziva to her own bedroom.

"But, where are his _Ima_ and _Abba_?" The girl settled in her bed as her mother tucked the blankets around her.

"Back in Ireland."

" _Lama_?"

"Because they have jobs."

"But why did they send their children over here?"

Rivka sighed, reaching up and brushing an escaped strand of hair off her daughter's cheek. "Because it is dangerous in Ireland right now. The country is at war with itself, and lots of innocent people are being hurt and killed. So Timothy and Sarah's parents sent them here, where we can protect them."

"But... people die here because of the Palestines."

" _Ken_ , but it is not every day, like it is in Ireland." She then leaned over, pressing a kiss to Ziva's forehead. "Now get some sleep, Zivaleh. _Laila tov_."


	4. Chapter 4

**Rifiuto: Non Mirena**

 **Thanks to MusicWithinMe for reviewing 3, and Reader aka Sun Samurai for reviewing 1, 2, and 3.**

 _Be'er Sheva,_

 _Israel_

 _1989_

Laughter filled the small house and Rivka looked up from her baking to see Timothy and Ziva dash through the house, out towards the olive groves. _"Tizahehr_ , Timothy!" She sighed. " _Tizahari! Zivaleh!_ " But the two children were gone, racing through the olive fields barefoot. In the year that the McGee children had been with them, both Timothy and Sarah had slowly worked their way out of their shells; he and Ziva had become fast friends, and Sarah and Tali- a mere few months apart- spent time together as much as their siblings did.

Rivka and Eli spoke to the children's parents often, and Timothy and Sarah delighted in phone calls from their parents, telling them what they learned in school and the things they'd done. Of course, it always broke Rivka's heart whenever Timothy asked when he and Sarah could return home to Ireland, to which their mother always replied,

"Not yet, love. But soon."

The first time he'd received that answer, the boy had slipped off to his room, breaking down in tears- he'd quickly turned to Rivka, making the association of maternal love- the closest he would get before he and Sarah could be back with their own parents. Oftentimes, the mere sound of Rivka's heartbeat was enough to calm the boy down.

However, it hadn't gotten any easier for the siblings when they started school. Instantly, rumors had circulated about the primary school that they were orphans from Europe, sent down to Israel for child labor, or perhaps they were runaways- rumors that had only served to isolate the McGee siblings even further in an already- to them- strange world. They were ridiculed for their red hair, their pale skin and green eyes, accused of being ghosts in bodily form or some strange fairies incarnated human, and their accents, their Irish language the _Da_ vids found so beautiful- was thought to be some strange form of witchcraft, for children didn't understand.

So when people discovered the truth behind the McGee children, of their flight from Ireland due to the danger, they turned sympathetic- something the children didn't need. Both children also seemed reluctant- and even resisted- making friends at school; it ended up with her girls growing close to the McGee siblings. They were playmates, partners-in-crime, best friends-

 _And maybe one day, Timothy and my Zivaleh will be lovers._

Rivka could only hope.

In the short year they'd been in Israel, she had grown to look on Timothy and Sarah as hers, and so had- to a lesser extent- Eli, though he would never admit it. Both were brilliant children, with beautiful, sharp minds that never lacked for curiosity. Yes, the McGee siblings were like a week-long thunderstorm to the Israeli family- refreshing, long-awaited, accepted.

Footsteps soon sounded and she looked up to see Sarah and Tali come into the kitchen. "Can we help, _Ima_?"

" _May_ we help, Talia."

"May we?" Her mother chuckled.

" _Ken,_ you may."

The girls quickly and eagerly set to helping her with the bread, and it wasn't long before Sarah broke her silence.

"I _'elp Mams_." Rivka looked up at the now-six-year-old, surprised; neither Timothy nor Sarah spoke of their parents, keeping their memories to themselves.

"Do you?" The child nodded. "I bet you are a big help to her."

"... _le's_ me lick the _'poon_."

"When we _'ake_ cookies, Sarah." The child turned to her brother as Timothy came into the kitchen. "May I _'ave_ a glass _o' wa'er_ , please?"

"Of course you may, Timothy. You do not have to ask every time you want something. This is your home for the time being as well." The boy remained quiet as he accepted the glass Rivka handed him and quickly filled it.

" _Go raibh maith agat."_

Rivka chuckled; the family had quickly learned the few Irish words the kids were willing to use around them. _"Al lo davar."_ She watched as the boy made a beeline for the sofa in the living room; he curled up in the corner, watching Ari and Eli engaged in a chess match. A soft sigh escaped her throat, and she slowly turned back to her baking.

At ten-years-old, Timothy was a brilliant little boy, kind, generous, helpful, but on occasion, he'd slip into these "blue funks" as Rivka's friend Yael called them. Having gotten her psychology degree from Brown University, Yael later returned to Israel- Italian Catholic by birth, she'd met her husband, James Bashan- his mother's maiden name over his father's- while at college, and the two had traveled the world for years before returning to Israel to settle down. Both had later converted to Judaism, not long after their daughter Deena was born, in eighty.

 _"He needs time. You have to give him time, Rivka. Don't force it. To Timothy, this is like losing a loved one to death; let him mourn the separation. Eventually, he will understand why it had to be this way."_

And while she understood, it was so hard.

"Timmy?" Rivka watched as Ziva came back into the house; she'd celebrated her eighth birthday two weeks earlier, though she hadn't lost that streak within her. "Do you not want to play anymore?" He met her gaze, before getting off the sofa and slipping back to his bedroom. As she went to follow, Eli grabbed his daughter's wrist.

"Leave him be, Zivaleh."

"But _Abba_ -"

"He will be okay. Just give him time." Ziva glanced back at her father, before sighing and taking a seat on the sofa, watching her brother and father play, though she kept glancing at the hallway, wanting desperately to pull the boy from his room and take him olive picking. But all she could do was follow her _Abba_ 's instructions and leave him alone.


	5. Chapter 5

**Rifiuto: Non Mirena**

 _Tel Aviv,_

 _Israel_

 _1989_

 _"Timothy and Ziva sitting in a tree, K-I-S-S-I-!"_

The boy went down with one punch.

As usual, Ziva once more was getting into it with Schmeil Rubinstein, nephew of the local rabbi, out on the playground during recess. Because, once more, he'd decided to torment Timothy and his sister, and while the redhead was perfectly willing to defend his sister, he refused to defend himself. So, in Ziva's eight-year-old mind, it made perfect sense that _she_ defend him.

Because it was clear the ten-year-old wasn't going to defend himself.

Before the boy could think to get up, Ziva pounced, landing hard on his stomach and kneeing him good in the groin. The next punch sent blood spurting all over her hand as she broke his nose.

A small crowd had gathered by then to watch as Schmeil got beat to a pulp-

 _"David!"_

Instantly the crowd parted; Ziva was yanked to her feet, small fists still swinging. Without a word, the principal marched her into the small lobby outside his office and deposited her in one of the chairs, ordering her to stay before making a couple quick phone calls to her parents. As she slouched, arms crossed over her chest, she glanced to her right.

And started, to find Timothy sitting a couple chairs away, Sarah curled into his side. "What are you two doing in here?" In the short year the McGees had been with them, she'd never seen either of them sent to the principal's office- _she_ was usually the one that landed in the office. Not Timothy and his sister.

"We caused it." He whispered, resting his chin to Sarah's head. The six-year-old was crying; not because she was hurt or anything, but because to her, principals were like the _Gardai-_ the police force in Ireland. Even at such a tender age, Sarah's witnessing of clashes between the IRA, British and police force in Belfast had scared her- she then came to associate all authority figures with such violence.

"No, you- why is _Sarit_ crying?"

Timothy glanced at his sister, holding her closer; he then turned narrowed green eyes to the Israeli. "None _o' yer bus'ness_." But just as she opened her mouth to protest, the door opened and her parents rushed in, out of breath and worried.

"Timothy, Sarah? What-" RIvka turned, to find her daughter sitting behind her. "Oh, Zivaleh-"

"Schmeil Rubinstein started it, _Ima_."

"I do not care-"

"He made fun of _Sarit_ and when Timmy stood up to him, he said..."

"Said what, Ziva?" Eli asked, glancing at the two young children who'd become his charges.

"He said that we were kissing. So I punched him." Her parents shared startled glances, but it was Timothy who broke the silence.

" _'tis_ Sarah! _No' Sarit, Sarah_!"

The little girl in question pulled away from her brother, sliding off the chair and rushing into Eli's arms. Over the year they'd lived with the _Da_ vids, Sarah had gotten to be exceptionally close to Eli; he reminded her of _Da_ , with his strong arms, warm smile and soft, low voice. And Eli was perfectly willing to fill in as a surrogate father to the children- if only Timothy would allow him to get close. But the boy... he turned to Rivka, and even then, he kept his distance from her, fearing any memories of his mother or father being lost forever in the abyss of his mind.

"I am sorry about this, Mr. and Mrs. _Da_ vid." Without a word, Eli set Sarah down and gently pushed his wife forward; the door to the principal's office shut, leaving the three children to wait outside. Ziva watched the siblings as Sarah snuggled into her older brother's side, hiccuping.

"Will they _sen'_ us _'way_ , Timmy? Like _Mams an' Da_ did?" The boy looked down at his sister, unaware of the surprise on Ziva's face at such a question. The Israeli girl became even more startled when Timothy replied, his tone serious.

"I _dinna_ know, Sarah."

"If they _sen'_ us _'way_ , where will we go, Timmy?"

The boy shrugged, swallowing. " _'merica_ , probably. Or Canada." He met Ziva's gaze. " _Wha'_ are _ye lookin' a'_?"

"Why would you go anywhere, Timmy?" Ziva asked, confused. The boy wasn't making any sense whatsoever. A moment passed, before he took adeep breath. The door to the principal's office finally opened-

 _"B'cause no one wan's us!"_ Rivka and Eli stepped out of the principal's office just as Timothy climbed to his feet, rushing from the office. He fled down the hallways until he'd slipped through the double doors towards the playground.

"Oh, Eli-" But her husband gently pushed her towards the girls, before excusing himself to go after the boy. As Rivka sat beside Sarah, allowing the girl to curl into her lap, Ziva got up, following her father. "Zivaleh-" But the girl was gone.

Eli found the boy sitting on one of the swings, staring at the ground, kicking absentmindedly at the dirt. "Timothy." The boy didn't look up, and after a moment, Eli knelt down to meet the boy's gaze. "Timothy, look at me." When the child refused, the man took a seat beside him in one of the empty swings. It was quite a sight Ziva found as she slipped into the shadows, her father, Mossad Agent and member of the _Kidon_ unit, sitting on a swing in the school playground, and looking _comfortable_ while doing so.

"My father used to tell me that 'the greatest fear is not death, but the accepting of something we cannot change. That circumstances will force us to find a new family, a new home, for however long, we may not know, but that we must accept it for the time being and find ways to make the situation easier for our hearts to handle'." He glanced at the boy, before reaching out and laying a hand on the boy's shoulder.

"We will not replace your parents, Timothy. We simply wish to keep you safe from the danger in Ireland until it ends. You and Sarah will not be here forever. Rivka and I would never wish to keep you from your parents longer intended. We simply wish to make protect you, the best way your parents saw fit."


	6. Chapter 6

**Rifiuto: Non Mirena**

She watched from her place at the island counter in the kitchen as he continued to leaf through the book; Sarah was sitting on his lap, pointing out the colorful photographs and occasionally interrupting her brother. The girl let out a squeal of surprise and quickly crossed herself as he read of the executions of the Easter Rising leaders at Kilmainham Jail.

"... _an' bam! Bam! Bam!_ thousands _o'_ times _ov'r, th'_ bullets rained _ont' th' lea'ers o' th'_ rebellion. In _fightin' th'_ boars _o' Englan'_ , they _die'_ sons _o' I'eland, no'_ free in body, _bu'_ in _spir't_. Thomas MacDonagh, poet _o' th' risin' cas'_ one _las'_ prayer _t'_ Brigid-" Sarah tugged on his arm, tearing his attention from the book, and he smiled, reciting with the girl as she whispered the prayer and crossed herself.

" _'Oh Bless'd St. Brigid, Mother o' th' Churches an'_ Patran-'"

"Pat _ron_ ess." He corrected softly.

" _... o' our Bless'd_ easels _-"_

" _Isles_."

 _"I... sles... o' Éireann.'"_ The boy nodded, going back to the story.

"'... _askin'_ for his wife _t'_ be looked _af'er, an'_ for _'is chil'ren t'_ continue _th'_ struggle _fo'_ a free _count'y, t'_ guide _th' 'and o' Pa'rick_ -'"

 _"Sain' Pa'rick- wh' drove th' snakes ou' o' Ir'land."_

 _"Aye."_ Ziva cocked her head to the side as the boy kissed his sister's cheek, making her giggle. "'... _t' 'elp_ remove _th' Br'tish_ from _Ir'land_.'"

"Timmy?"

"Hmm?"

"Are _th' Br'tish_ gone?" He thought a moment, glancing towards the kitchen and catching Ziva's gaze.

"No, Sarah. _Th' Br'tish_ are who we're _fightin'_."

"Why?"

Timothy closed the book, setting it aside. " _B'cause_ they _wanna_ take _ov'r Ir'land_ , for themselves; make it _Br'tish_. They _dinna_ care _'bout th'_ Irish." He bit his lip. "Nobody cares _'bout th'_ Irish."

"Why?" He shrugged, not wanting to confuse the girl anymore than she already was.

" _B'cause..._ " He glanced around. " _B'cause we's_ a bad people."

" _So's tha's_ come they're _fightin'_ ,Timmy?"

A shrug. "Guess."

 _"Bu' ain't th'-"_

 _"Ar'n't."_

 _"Ar'n't th' Br'tish_ bad peoples, _t'? Tha'_ why _Mams an' Da_ sent us _'way? B'cause_ we're bad?"

"No..." He swallowed, glancing at Eli, who was paying attention to his Chess game with Ari, but still had one ear tuned tightly to their conversation.

"Timmy?"

The child sighed. " _Aye_ , Sarah?"

She turned to look at her brother. _"Wha' 'bout Samhain_? _'ow_ will _aintín_ Brigid be able _t' 'ave_ dinner _wi'_ us if we're _'ere_? She will _ge' los'_."

Everyone turned their attention to the two children then, and slowly, Timothy leaned close, whispering, "I _dinna_ think we'll be _eatin'_ with _aintín_ this year, Sarah."

The girl's face fell, but instantly, she perked up, remember something else. " _Wha' 'bout th'_ fires? _An'_ the _aos sí?_ They _canna_ find us in _Isr'el_ , can they? _An' th'_ apple cores! We _canna_ find _ou'_ true loves _wi'ou'_ apple cores! _An'_ eggs _an'... an' th' Pooka, Timmy! Wha' 'bout 'im?_ I _wanna t'_ see him _thi'_ year!"

"I... _dinna_ think Jews _cel'brate Samhain_ , Sarah. _Da_ says they _'ave diff'r'nt 'olidays_ than we do."

The girl soon burst into tears, curling into her brother's side. "I _wan' Mams_ , Timmy. _I wanna go 'ome_."

Rivka immediately understood; it wasn't the holiday that meant so much to Sarah, but the fact that such traditions were something done together, as a family. And considering the children had come to them in November of the previous year, the shock that _this Samhain_ would be spent in a foreign land, far away from their parents and their traditions and everything they knew, was finally hitting the girl.

"I know, Sarah. So do I." After a moment, Timothy got up, taking Sarah to her room so he could put her to bed. Ziva watched them disappear before turning to her mother.

"Why are they so ungrateful, _Ima_?"

Rivka sighed. "They are not ungrateful, Zivaleh. They are just... just missing their parents. They are homesick."

The girl furrowed a brow. "What is homesick?"

Her mother poured a cup of jasmine tea into a mug and pushed it into her daughter's hands. "It means that they miss their home and their parents and their friends. Now how about you take that to Sarah, see if she is okay." After a moment, Ziva left, heading down the hall towards the child's room. She raised a hand to knock on the door, as her mother had taught her before entering a room, but stopped, upon hearing voices.

"... _an'_ bless _Mams an' Da_ back _'ome, an'_..."

" _An'_ Mr. _an'_ Mrs. _Da_ vid."

" _An'_ Mr. _an'_ Mrs. _Da_ vid, _an'._.."

" _An'_ Ari _an'_ Tali _an'_ Ziva."

" _An'_ Ari _an'_ Tali _an'_ Ziva-"

She shifted to the other side of the door, watching through the gap between resting door and frame as Timothy helped his sister into the bed and tucked the covers around her. He then perched on the edge and did something Ziva didn't understand until Sarah spoke. " _Wha'_ are _ye doin'_ , Timmy? We _'ave_ a _fi'eplace a' 'ome_."

" _An' rem'mb'r 'ow Mams_ let's me rake _th'_ coals?" The girl nodded. "Well, I'm _rakin' th'_ coals."

"Bu-"

" _'tis tradi'ion_ , Sarah."

Ziva watched in fascination as Timothy grabbed the hairbrush off the nightstand and proceeded to brush the covers in the sign of a cross as he spoke. "I rake _thi' fi'e_ as _th'_ pure _Chris'_ rakes us all..." He reached down, tapping his sister's feet gently, making her giggle. "wi' Mary _a' th'_ foot," He then reached up, gently tapping Sarah lightly on the forehead. " _an'_ Brigid _a' th' 'ead_." He then set the brush back on the nightstand. " _An'_ may _th' eigh' brigh'est_ angels from _th'_ City _o'_ Grace preserve _thi' 'ouse an'_ all its people _'til th' comin' o' th'_ day." She watched as Sarah slowly imitated her brother, crossing herself- touching her forehead before moving down to her chest, then to her right shoulder before finishing with her left, her voice soft. "In _th'_ name _o' th' Fath'r_ , Son _an' 'oly Ghos'_."

 _"Amen."_

Timothy then leaned over, pressing a kiss to Sarah's forehead, as Ziva returned to the kitchen, his words ringing in her head.

 _"May Bless'd St. Brigid, Moth'r o' th' Church an' Patroness o' our Bless'd isles keep watch ov'r yer dreams, body an' soul 'til th' morn."_


	7. Chapter 7

**Rifiuto: Non Mirena**

 **A/N: She made Ari's birth year 1974 instead of 1969 for this.- Licia**

 _Be'er Sheva,_

 _Israel_

 _1990_

She watched from her seat on the sofa as Timothy talked with his mother on the phone. With Sarah having turned seven a few weeks earlier, Tali had quickly staked her claim on the older girl; she followed Sarah everywhere, delighted to have someone closer to her age. Ziva still played with Timothy- going on adventures in the olive groves and playing board games in the living room, or exploring downtown Tel Aviv with Ari- at sixteen- often hurrying to catch up, for fear their father would have his head if he lost the two.

A small part of her boiled with anger; he and Sarah sounded so excited to talk to their mother, telling her about what they'd done and the Hebrew they'd learned, and how different everything was in Israel as opposed to Ireland. "Can we come _'ome_ now, _Ima_?"

Ziva grit her teeth; how dare he ask-

" _No' ye',_ love." Kathleen's voice broke. " _Bu'_ soon."

" _'ow soon, Mams_?" Sarah asked. Ziva dug her nails into the binding of her book, narrowing her eyes. Sarah had as little right as Timothy to ask as far as she was concerned. Why could they _possibly_ want to go back to Ireland, where there was only violence and death? Didn't they _like_ Israel?

" _I'ma no'_ sure _ye', a chuisle_."

" _Don' ye_ love us _anym're, Mams_?" Tears began to choke the little girl's voice, and Timothy pulled his sister close. A slight bell of shame began to clog her throat.

" _Da an'_ I love _ye_ both _wi'_ all _ou' 'earts_ , Sarah. _Bu' 'tis_ still _t' dang'rous. Ye're saf'r_ if _ye_ stay in _Isr'el f'r_ now."

"Bu-"

" _'tis_ only _f'r_ a _littl'_ while, Sarah, love. Soon _ye an'_ Timmy can come _'ome_."

Eventually, the call ended with promises to talk soon and 'I love yous', and after hanging up, Sarah rushed off in search of Tali. Timothy stayed however, pulling the _Encyclopedia of Irish Saints_ that his parents had sent him for his birthday the year before towards him. He opened it, taking a seat at the kitchen table, and soon became lost in it. Ziva closed her copy of _Jane Eyre_ and got up, going to him. "What are you reading?" He looked up, surprised to see her there, before showing her the cover. "Is it good?"

He shrugged. " _Aye_. It list's all _th'_ saints _o' Ir'land_ , from _Patr'ck t' Abr'n_."

"Who?"

Rivka came back into the house, to find Timothy teaching Ziva of the various saints of the Emerald Isle, explaining what each stood for and trying as best he could to explain why the Catholics worshiped them. She slipped to the counter and began making lunch, listening as the boy talked, silently proud that her daughter was learning something that wasn't American-based, for she felt the kids got entirely too much influence from the American shows they watched. Eventually, Ari, Tali and Sarah came in from the groves for lunch, and Eli put his work away, joining them at the table. Sarah, having caught the tail end of her brother's words, piped up,

"Brigid is _ou'_ cousin's name. _'twas_ born on St. Brigid's Day." She picked up her sandwich, moving to take a bite.

"Sarah!" The girl stopped, before realizing and quickly set the sandwich down. Her ears red, she quickly said Grace, and crossed herself, watching her brother to make sure she was doing it right. Ziva watched the two, confused.

"So, how was your talk with your mother? Is she okay?" Timothy nodded, as Sarah spoke up, turning to Rivka.

"Good. They mi-"

" _Don'_ talk _wi' yer_ mouth full, Sarah." Tali giggled at how adult Timothy seemed to act as his sister glanced at her brother before swallowing her bite and continuing.

" _Mams sai'_ we can come _'ome_ soon."

"That is wonderful, Sarah. Did she say when?"

The child shook her head, moved to take another bite and then stopped. "No. _Bu'_ if she _sai'_ soon, then we could go _'ome t'morrow_!"

" _No' t'morrow_ , Sarah. Maybe in _th' nex'_ few _mo'ths_." Her brother replied.

Ziva swallowed, glancing at the boy. Though he spoke realistically, even he couldn't keep the hope that they'd return to Ireland soon out of his voice. It was the hope the siblings had that turned her stomach sour, and she set her glass down harder than she expected. _"Why would you want to go back to Ireland? Are you not happy here? Why do you even want to go back, there is nothing there for you! You have a home, and we love you! You are our family! And you want to go back to some strange country, you have not lived in for two years? Do you not love us anymore, is that why? We love you! We want you to stay!"_

And without another word, she left the table, slamming her bedroom door. The siblings shared a glance, before Rivka sighed, excusing herself from the table as she got up. She knocked gently on her daughter's door before slipping inside. "Zivaleh, what was that outburst about?"

The girl had her back to the door, and was hugging one of her teddy bears. Her mother took a seat beside her on the bed, reaching out to run a hand through her hair. The nine-year-old pulled away. "Ziva, I know you are upset. But they will not be leaving for a while. Not until it is safe for them to return."

"But why do they want to leave _at all_?" The girl asked, turning to her mother, tears in her eyes.

"Because their parents are there, and their friends and their family."

" _We_ are their family."

Her mother sighed. "No, Ziva, we are their _host_ family. We are looking out for them while the violence in Ireland comes to an end. We are not their blood family."

" _Abba_ says blood does not matter."

"Maybe not, but we cannot make them stay if they do not want to. When it is time for them to go home, they will go home and we will have to accept that."

 _"I do not want to."_ Slowly, Rivka lay down beside her daughter, pulling her close. She pressed a kiss to the girl's hair.

"I know, _ahava_ , I know."


	8. Chapter 8

**Rifiuto: Non Mirena**

 _Tel Aviv,_

 _Israel_

 _1990_

"Hey Ziva, where is your boyfriend? Or did he finally go back to Europe with the other orphans?" The girl stepped forward; it looked like Schmeil was ready to have his nose re-broken again.

Timothy grabbed her arm. " _'tis no'_ worth it, Zivaleh." She turned to him. " _'e_ is _jus'_ a bully. Come on." It took a moment, but eventually, he was able to tug her away; she followed, but not before casting one last glare Schmeil's way. They left the small grocer's, small bags of _Ma'amoul_ \- small, puffed shortbread pastries filled with fruit- in hand. Rivka had allowed the two to walk to the grocer's a block away, as long as they returned within the hour and didn't lose sight of each other.

Once on the street, Ziva slipped her hand into Timothy's so they couldn't be separated and wouldn't lose each other on the crowded Tel Aviv street.

"I hate Schmeil Rubinstein! I hate him! He is such a... _putz_! I do not understand how he can be related to Rabbi Rubinstein! He is... _horrible_!"

Timothy let her vent the entire walk home, but as they climbed the stairs to the apartment, finally spoke. "Why _d' ye list'n t' 'im_ if all _'e_ does is make _ye a'gry_ , Zivaleh? _'tis_ seems kind _o'_... stupid."

She turned on him, dark eyes flashing. "I am _not stupid_ , Timothy! Schmeil Rubinstein is stupid! He is-"

"I _dinna_ say _ye_ were. I _sai' tha' lettin' 'im ge' t' ye_ is stupid." The girl stopped, his words working their way into her brain and penetrating.

"Oh." He nodded, taking her hand and tugging her towards the next flight. They made the next trek in silence, hands still linked, before Ziva stopped, turning to him. "Do you really think he is a bully?" Timothy nodded, holding the apartment door open for her before following her inside.

"How was the walk to the store?"

"Ziva _near' go' int' a'noth'r figh' wi'_ Schmeil Rubinstein." Timothy replied, setting the bag he held on the counter as Ziva joined him and added hers to the pile.

"Oh, Zivaleh. How many times _must_ we tell you-"

"I did not, _Ima_. Timothy stopped me." The two children shared a glance, that Rivka didn't miss, as she set a plate out for them to put the _Ma'amoul_ on.

"Well, I am glad Timothy was there to stop you, Ziva. That is the last thing _Abba_ and I would need. Now go get your sisters and brother. Dinner is almost ready."

After dinner, Ari and Eli settled down to play a game of Chess, with Timothy watching, intrigued. He'd watched these games for the last couple year, but never paid much attention to them. "Is there something you need, Timothy?" Eli asked, moving his knight to capture Ari's queen. The eleven-year-old bit his lip.

" _'ow d' ye_ play?" Both _Da_ vid men looked up at that.

"Do you want to play?" Ari asked and Timothy nodded. After quickly resetting the Chess board, Timothy took Ari's place, paying careful attention to everything he and Eli told him. "Your main goal is to capture your opponent's queen and put them in checkmate, which will end the game in a victory for you."

Ziva watched from her place in the armchair, her book forgotten on her lap. She had never understood the game, nor had she ever wanted to play. Chess had been more Ari's thing- it was something he and _Abba_ did after dinner, enjoying the mental combat the game brought. Besides, Ziva's interests were much more... physical. Dancing, running, climbing trees, getting into trouble. Things Ari rarely did anymore now that he was 'older'. Thank God she had Timothy to go on adventures with, otherwise _Ima_ would never let her leave the apartment.

But now it looked like her partner-in-crime would be forgetting all about her. Grudgingly, she returned to her book, but ended up reading the same paragraph for the next thirty minutes before finally giving up. By bedtime, Timothy had finished his game with Eli, Ziva had closed the book and stuck it behind the chair cushion. As she headed to her room-for Ari, Tali, Sarah and Timothy had already gone to bed- she wanted nothing more than to throw her father's stupid chessboard out the window.

Thank God it hadn't been a pony.

She stopped in hallway, however, when she heard voices coming from Sarah's room, and backtracked, peeking through the gap in the door. "There, Timmy."

He was sitting in the bed with Sarah curled into his side, reading to her from a book. " _'... many foods we 'voided b'cause it reminded th' elders o' ou' pov'rty durin' th' great famine an' cheese was foremos' among 'em-'_ "

" _Bu'_ we eat cheese, Timmy." He met Sarah's gaze.

" _Aye_ , we do."

"So, _why's_ it _no' eat'n_ in _th'_ book?"

 _"B'cause_ there was no cheese _durin'_ _an Gorta Mór._ Only _'tatoes. 'memb'r wha'_ -"

" _Th' grea'_ famine when we fled _Ir'land fo' 'merica. An'_ we _coul'n't_ even eat _th' 'tatoes, 'cause_ -"

 _"'cause th'_ ones _tha'_ grew were sick."

" _Tha's_ when _th' Br'tish dinna 'elp us, righ',_ Timmy? _Tha's_ why we _'ate th' Br'tish_?" Sarah sat up and turned to him. " _'cause_ they _le'_ us starve?" He bit his lip, thinking before,

"... _aye. 'twas Ir'land's 'olocaust, an' Br'tain's_ genocide."

" _Wha's_ genocide?"

" _'tis_... a way _tha'... tha'_ destroys a peoples way _o'_ life, _an'_... ultimately _th'_ people."

"Like _wha' Br'tain's doin'_ now? _They's destroyin'_ us-"

" _Aye_ , they _are_." Ziva covered her mouth to suppress a giggle at the sternness of Timothy's tone. " _Bu'_ they're _usin' Ir'land t'_ do it." He then closed the book and set it aside, before gently sitting Sarah up. "Come on."

 _"Timmy!"_

"Say _yer pray'rs_ , Sarah."

"Bu-"

" _Ye dinna wan' St. Patr'ck t'_ tell _Mams_ , do _ye_?" The girl's eyes widened in horror.

" _Wou'd_ he?" He shrugged, feigning fear.

"I _dinna_ know. _'e migh'_. St. _Patr'ck_ knows _ev'rythin'_."


	9. Chapter 9

**Rifiuto: Non Mirena**

 **A/N: She has this chapter skip ahead a couple years.- Licia**

 _Tel Aviv,_

 _Israel_

 _1995_

Fourteen.

His little girl had just turned fourteen, and already, she looked so much like her mother. Eli sighed; when Rivka had informed him in early March of eighty-one that she was pregnant, he'd been hesitant. A baby? Were they really ready for a baby?

Turns out they had been.

Ziva had been a spitfire from the November evening in eighty-one when she entered their lives, and hadn't changed since.

No, the only thing that had changed was the addition of the McGee siblings. The frightened Irish children that they'd picked up at the airport that day had come into their lives and changed them for the better, it seemed. They brought a balance that the family seemed to have been missing. A balance that was nearly broken.

When they'd gotten the call that a ceasefire had been declared in June of the previous year, and that the siblings might be able to return home, the entire house had near exploded. Down in Be'er Sheva for the summer holidays, as soon as Ziva heard the news, she'd gone into a whirlwind of a fit- not seen since the age of three, when Eli had informed the child she could _not_ have one of her Uncle Yoel's ponies- that had resulted in everything from screaming to crying to the breakage of dinnerware, several threats of bodily harm her parents' way, and finally violence towards the one person who could even remotely calm the girl down. Timothy had grabbed his daughter around the waist, burying her firmly against his chest and rocking back and forth with her, one arm around her shoulders to hold her head in place beneath his chin and the other around her waist to keep her from pushing him away. She'd broken down then, sobbing and crying and begging him and Sarah not to go. By then, Ari was away studying at University in Edinburgh, and the prospect of losing another member of her family- let alone two- was too much for the girl to bear.

Turned out, Ziva's fit had been all for naught.

The ceasefire ended weeks later, two days before Sarah's birthday.

Having now lived with the _Da_ vids for a number of years- six years, eleven months and twenty-three days, to be exact- would be seven exactly on the twentieth of November- Timothy and Sarah had discovered surrogate parents in both Eli and his wife. They were both exceptionally close to Ziva and her siblings; though both he and Rivka seemed to notice something more boiling beneath the surface between the oldest McGee sibling and their oldest daughter.

Something that both Eli and Rivka were hoping would one day look a lot like love.

Eli watched as Ziva slowly unwrapped the gift Sarah had placed in her lap- a book of Irish poetry- before setting the book aside and pulling the younger girl into her arms. Both Sarah and Timothy had grown up; gone was the ginger red of their hair, replaced with a beautiful shade of coppery cinnamon, streaks of dark, rich reddish brown making themselves known thanks to their many hours in the hot Israeli sun. Some of their freckles had faded, but though their skin had darkened due to the sun, the majority of their freckles were now more prominently known than they'd been as children. They still talked with their parents, and though questions of when they could return home had ceased, the pain at the end of every phone call was still there, still as fresh as the day they'd left Ireland.

He chuckled softly; both now spoke with definite Israeli accents, though their soft Irish lilts still set them apart from others, as did their striking green eyes.

"What is so funny, Eli?" The new Assistant Director of Mossad turned as his wife joined him.

"Just... thinking."

"About what?" She soon followed his gaze to the small gathering of teenagers in the living room. "Ah."

After the party ended and everything was cleaned up, Timothy made his way into the kitchen, leaving Ziva, Sarah and Tali to look over her gifts. He leaned against the counter, thinking. "Everything all right, _ahava_?" Rivka finished covering the remains of the cake and placed it in the fridge.

" _Wou'd_ it... be all _righ'_ if I called _Mams_?" She turned to him, surprised. Timothy hadn't asked permission for anything in years- not since she and her husband had made it clear that as long as the siblings were here, this was to be considered their house as well.

"Ah... of course it is, Timothy. You never need to ask." He nodded, relieved to have her permission.

" _Go raibh maith agat, Ima."_ He then removed the portable phone and slipping down the hall to his room. Rivka watched him disappear, a small twist tugging at her heart. It had taken a while, but eventually, both Timothy and Sarah had come to call- and think of- her and Eli as their surrogate parents. To hear the simple term come from the boy's lips- a child who'd resisted for so long in fear of forgetting his own mother- brought tears to her eyes; tears she quickly wiped away.

 _"Al lo davar, ahava."_

" _Ima_ , where is Tim?" She turned to find her oldest daughter standing at the island, gifts tucked into her arms. Ziva had only recently taken to calling the McGee boy by the nickname, insisting that Timothy was too formal. Rivka forced a calm smile.

"In his room. Making a call to his mother." Ziva's brow furrowed, but she nodded anyway, before turning and heading back to her own room, unaware that Sarah had quickly slipped after her brother when he disappeared with the phone minutes earlier. She stopped by Tim's door, hearing his and Sarah's voices, followed by silence, which must have been their mother's side of the conversation.

Sarah said something in Irish, to which her brother responded, before silence filled the air. Despite her curiosity, Ziva forced herself away from the door, heading for her own room, determined to return in hopes she wouldn't miss the rest of the conversation.


	10. Chapter 10

**Rifiuto: Non Mirena**

"Tim?"

He looked up at the soft knock, as Ziva slipped into his room that evening. Dinner had been quiet, neither he nor Sarah saying much, and after a couple games of Chess, he'd excused himself, Sarah following, claiming exhaustion. The two of course has spent an hour in Sarah's room, talking softly and in heated Irish before Sarah had finally gone to bed after prayers and a few chapters of Leon Uris's _Trinity_ , which the siblings had been reading over and over for the last several years, as a way to feel as though they were back in Ireland instead of in Israel.

Worried, he quickly removed his reading glasses and set them aside before marking his place in his novel. "Zivaleh, _wha's_ wrong?"

"It is silly."

"No, it's _no'_."

She bit her lip before taking a seat on his bed. "You never... gave me my birthday present."

He studied her for a moment, brow furrowing, before realizing what she meant. "Oh!" A moment passed before snapped his eyes shut and shook his head. " _I'ma_ sorry, I _comple'ly forgo'_." And without another word, he reached into his nightstand drawer, pulling out a small box. He then held it out to her, lifting the lid.

"Oh, Tim."

" _D' ye_ like it?"

Slowly, she lifted the gold chain out of the box, watching as the golden Star of David swung gently back and forth before her. "It is beautiful, but... this must have cost a fortune." He shook his head.

" _No'_ really. I saw it... in an antique shop when Sarah _an'_ I were _ou'_ one _aft'rnoon, an'_..." He shrugged. "The guy said _tha'_ it had never been worn. I figured... maybe it _wou'd_ get worn now. So?" He watched her turn the pendant over in her hand, gently brushing her fingers against the gold. " _D' ye_ like it, Zivaleh?"

She looked up at the name, suddenly realizing how different it felt when he used the endearment term than when her parents used it. The way his mouth, his tongue seemed to caress every consonant, every vowel, every letter-

Without a word, she threw herself at him; he let out a grunt of surprise as she landed against him, and she giggled. "I love it, Tim. _Toda_."

 _"Go ndéana sé maith duit."_

She raised an eyebrow. "You have been here seven years, Tim. You know Hebrew by now."

He rolled his eyes, but spoke to appease her. _"Al lo davar."_

She giggled, brushing her nose against his before pressing a quick kiss to his mouth. They slowly broke apart, searching gazes, before he slowly closed the gap between them once more. This kiss was just as chaste, parted just as quickly, before returning. The next kiss was a little longer, a little slower, softer, an exploration of something new.

When they finally parted, Ziva held the necklace out. "Put it on me, Tim?" She then turned, lifting her hair up and allowing him to slip it around her neck before clasping it.

"Done." She looked over her shoulder at him, grinning.

 _"Toda."_ Their lips met once more; this kiss was deeper, hungrier, curiouser. Ziva reached up, caressing his cheek before her hand fell; he caught her hand in his, slowly lacing their fingers together. In the last couple years, the few girlfriends Tim had had hadn't been able to pass Ziva's 'inspection'- if he didn't know any better, he'd guess she was jealous, determined to have him all to herself. The fact that he and his sister lived with her and her family- that they looked to her parents as surrogate parents- didn't bother her at all. And if he only knew that both Eli and Rivka were hoping to look at him as a son- _in-law_ rather than a surrogate son-

He pulled away, shaking his head. "No, Ziva, we... we _canna_ -"

"It is just a kiss, Tim-"

" _Bu' yer_ parents-"

"It is not like they are listening at the door, Tim. They do not care. They know that we like-"

" _Bu'_ Ziva-"

"We are not doing anything illegal. We are not _sleeping together_ ; Tim, it is a _kiss_. I have waited for this kiss for nearly seven years. I thought you had, too."

He sighed, resting his forehead to hers. "I know, I _jus'_... they _'ave_ taken Sarah _an'_ I in... if they _fin' ou'_ -"

"Tim, it is a kiss. A _kiss._ Nothing more." She caught his lips again, shifting until she was settled beside him, her legs in his lap. He rested one hand against her hip, the other sliding down her legs towards her feet. She playfully pulled her foot away, giggling into the kiss. Eventually, she pulled away, meeting his gaze. "I love it, my present. Thank you." She kissed him deeply once more before getting up and slipping out of the room.

He sighed, closing his eyes as the realization of what he'd just done hit.

He'd kissed Ziva- _kissed_ her. The oldest daughter of his surrogate parents, the girl with the pigtails he'd grown up with. The girl who'd broken Schmeil Rubinstein's nose in four places and didn't understand terms like 'homesick'; the girl who studied Irish saints and had tried crossing herself once only to end up horribly turned around. The girl who'd near destroyed the house in Be'er Sheva when she found out he and Sarah might be returning to Ireland. The daughter of the new Assistant Director of Mossad.

He swallowed. He'd just kissed the Mossad director's daughter. Granted, she'd started it and kissed him back, but still. He hadn't tried very hard to stop her. And Ziva was stubborn; bound to get what she wanted, no matter how long it took. This had only been a matter of time.

The teenager quickly slipped out of bed and from his room, making his way to the living room. Rivka was resewing a button back onto her favorite blouse, and Eli was reading; the news was on low, but neither noticed. It was Rivka that noticed him first. "What are you doing up, _ahava_?"

Tim glanced at her before making his way to Eli. The older man glanced at him, before removing his reading glasses. "Timothy, is everything all right?"

He swallowed thickly. "I need _t'_ talk _t'_ you _'bout somethin', Abba._ "

Eli glanced at his wife, not bothering to keep the curiosity out of his eyes.


	11. Chapter 11

**Rifiuto: Non Mirena**

 _Be'er Sheva,_

 _Israel_

 _1997_

"I want _t'_ join Mossad."

All noise stopped at the quiet declaration.

Five sets of eyes turned to face him, and the eighteen-year-old slowly lifted his focus from his glass, meeting the assistant director's gaze. Slowly, the man in question set his knife down. "I... did not quite catch that, Timothy. Say it again."

"I want _t'_ join Mossad."

"That is what I thought you said." Eli rested his elbows on the table, rubbing his hands together with a sigh. "Rivka, my love, will you and the girls give us a moment." The woman in question knew better than to argue, and for once, was grateful she wasn't having to talk to the teenager. Quickly, she gathered up her plate.

"Come on girls, you can help me clear the table."

"But, _Ima_ -"

"Zivaleh, now." The sixteen-year-old didn't move. _"Axshav!"_ Glancing between her father and the boy she'd grown up with, she slowly stood, gathering her plate. As she passed by Tim, she reached out to take his plate, but he grabbed her wrist, glancing at her out of the corner of his eye. Slowly, she pulled back, running her hand along his shoulders as she passed, in a gesture of support. Once they were in the kitchen, Eli spoke,

"Do you realize what Mossad is, Timothy?"

He nodded. " _Aye_ , I do."

"And yet-" The older man stopped, turning to find Sarah and his daughters watching with wide eyes. After a moment, he stood, following Timothy into the kitchen and setting his plate among the others before beckoning the younger man onto the porch. Ziva craned her neck as the sliding glass door shut, and after a moment moved to follow, but Rivka's handful of her shirt stopped her.

"Do not even think of it, Zivaleh."

"But _Ima_ -"

"You know better than to interrupt your father during a meeting. And Timothy can handle himself. He no longer needs you to defend him on the playground." The sixteen-year-old slumped, returning back to the dishes, though she kept her ears tuned to the porch.

Once outside, the two took seats at the small table in the corner of the porch; Eli studied the young man before him. At eighteen, Timothy was a strapping young man, a good three inches taller than Ari, who was doing his residency in London, with those same green eyes and coppery red hair. The Irish lilt still softly colored his words, and he'd since picked up Hebrew fluently, though both he and Sarah still spoke Irish when alone together. They kept tight tabs on the news in Ireland, and each report- of more, continuous violence- made the teenagers sick with worry over their loved ones back home.

He sighed, folding his arms on the table. "Timothy, do you understand exactly what you are asking?"

The young man nodded. " _Ken, Abba_. I _undestan'_ perfectly. I _undestan'_ what Mossad is, why it is _'ere, an'_ I want to join. I'm o' age."

"Timothy, this is not Ireland-"

The teenager scoffed derisively. "I _'ave no'_ been back _t' Ir'land_ since I was nine-years-old, _Abba_."

Eli cringed. If only Timothy and Sarah were willing to admit that they'd arrived in Israel in late May, not late November, as the pair seemed to believe. But then again, it had been a stressful situation for the children, and that whole first year had been a blur for them; an the human brain did strange things to protect the person from trauma. "Timothy, you are Catholic."

"We both worship a god, _Abba_. The _same_ God. What does it matter the religion I practice as long as I do it in His name?" His surrogate father sighed. "I am fluent in Hebrew, in English, in Arabic and Spanish and _French_. I know Jujutsu, Aikido, Judo, Savate; I can write, hack and break codes faster than most of your agents. I have passed the firearms requirements, and am just as good as Zivaleh at knife-throwing, if not better." Eli's head snapped at the mention of his daughter. "Why won't you _a' leas'_ _consider_ allowing me _t'_ join _th'_ Institute? Why _ar' ye_ shutting me down _b'fore ev'n considerin'_ me?" The more heated his temper, the thicker his Irish until Eli couldn't even understand the boy.

"Timothy, it is not that I do not _want_ you to join."

"Then _wha'_ is it?" Eli sighed, sitting back and glancing towards the door, where Ziva stood watching, trying to look inconspicuous, and failing. Tim followed his gaze, eyes narrowing. _"Ziva?"_

"She came to me a few weeks ago; she was afraid you would ask to join."

The younger man started, surprised beyond belief that the girl he'd grown up with out turn on him like this. " _Ziva_ asked you _t'_ tell me no."

Eli nodded slowly. "She did. She fears for you, for what will happen if you join, if you get hurt."

"More _f'r 'er_ own _self'sh_ needs _tha'_ mine." He muttered, casting a sidelong glance towards the door; Ziva ducked back out of view, but not quick enough. His gaze narrowed further, before he turned back to Eli. " _Please, Abba._ _Let_ me join. I want to. If... if I cannot do any good in _Ir'land_ , then..." He stopped, thinking of his parents, trapped within the violence of the emerald isle. "then let me do good elsewhere."

The assistant director studied the young man, before reaching out and patting his hand. "A trial run. And if you do well, I will consider it." Tim met his gaze.

"You will?" Eli nodded. "Thank you, _Abba_."

He then stood, but stopped midway to the door, gaze fixing on Ziva she slipped out onto the porch. "I was... going to make some tea. Do either of you-" But she stopped, at the look on Tim's face. Eli glanced at his daughter.

"Zivaleh, I suggest you run."

She glanced at her father before turning back to Tim. Instantly, she held up her hands, stepping around him towards the porch steps. "Tim, I... I was thinking... of you... of only you and _Sarit_... and-" But she didn't finish; instead she took off running for the olive groves as Tim let out a scream of annoyance, chasing after her.

 _"You! You self'sh, littl' brat!"_ Rivka stepped out onto the porch, Tali and Sarah in tow, in time to see Tim dash down the steps after Ziva. _"Ge' back 'ere!"_

"So, how did it go?" Eli glanced at his wife as his oldest daughter let out a scream of surprise.

"Fine."


	12. Chapter 12

**Rifiuto: Non Mirena**

 **Thanks to MusicWithinMe for reviewing 10, and Reader aka Sun Samurai for reviewing 4, 5, 6, and 7.**

He caught her around the waist, sending them both into the dirt among the olive groves. They rolled for several feet, before landing with Ziva beneath him among a grove of veteran olive trees. "Tim- _Tim, do not! I was... I was thinking of you. Tim, I was thinking of you!"_ She held up her hands.

 _"You nea' dest'oyed my future for your own selfish needs!"_

 _"No, no! I did not-"_

But he caught her hands, pressing until her arms were over her head in the dirt. _"Don' lie t' me, Zivaleh."_

She met his gaze, desperate. _"I did it because I love you!"_

That sent him scrambling away from her in mere seconds, placing several feet between them. "... what?"

She pushed herself onto her elbows, meeting his gaze. "I love you, Tim. That is why I went to _Abba_. I love you. And the last thing I want is for you to get hurt."

He studied her, brow furrowed. Had she just said what he thought she'd said? Those three little words rarely ever said in life?

"Ziva... you... _ye're_ sixteen."

She sat up."So? I do not care." A moment passed as she reached up, pulling the shoulder of her sweater back up. "You should not either."

He sighed, letting his thoughts run rampant as he turned to study her. She'd grown up since he met her at the airport that long ago day, trading pigtails for braids and curls and overalls for jeans and tank tops. She was growing up, stuck between a girl and a woman, not fully grown up even though she tried to pretend she was. "Zivaleh-"

"Tim, please."

A moment passed, before he crawled towards her, silent. Ziva waited, holding her breath, though she didn't know why. He took a seat beside her, meeting her gaze. A soft sigh escaped his throat, as he gently reached out, cradling her face in his hand. She turned her head, nudging her nose against his palm. When she turned back, his mouth was on hers, tasting, drinking, breathing her. She slid an arm around his neck, pulling him closer-

Slowly, he pulled back, meeting her gaze before getting up. He helped her stand, lacing their fingers together as they made their way through the olive groves. Eventually, they took a seat beneath one of the trees, Timothy leaning back against the trunk and holding out a hand for Ziva to sit beside him. But she just cocked her head. _"Wha'?"_ After several minutes, Ziva reached down, pressing on his knees. "Zivaleh, _wha'_ are you _doin'_?" He tugged on her hand again, but she pulled away, reaching down with both hands this time and pressing hard against his knees, forcing them apart. Then, she lowered herself to her knees and shifted around, scooting back until she was nestled against his legs. Once settled, she tucked her head beneath his chin with a sigh; their argument and anger from earlier forgotten.

" _Abba_ is willing to give me a trial run." Ziva's eyes snapped open, and she pulled away, tilting her head up.

" _Abba_ agreed?" He nodded, pressing a kiss to her temple. She reached down, grabbing his hands and sliding his arms around her waist. They sat in silence for several minutes, before Ziva met his gaze. She smiled softly, before nudging her nose against his, their lips meeting in soft kisses. A giggle escaped her throat, and she reached up a hand, caressing his cheek as the kiss deepened.

He tightened his arms around her, shifting until one leg bent, tangling into Ziva's legs. When they finally broke the kiss, Ziva stood, holding out a hand. He took it, standing and pulling her into his arms. She let out a laugh, sliding her arms around his neck momentarily, before finally pulling and slipping her hand into his. The walk back to the house was silent, until,

"How did you learn everything?"

"You heard?"

"Every word." She met his gaze.

He shrugged. "Well, taking Sarah to all those defense classes; it got _t' th' poin'_ where I'd train _wit'_ her on _th'_ days she _dinna 'ave_ class. _An'_ by _watchin'_ you."

She met his gaze. "Watching me?"

He turned to her, tangling their hands together. " _Ye_ think I _wou'dn't 'ave_ learned a few things from _watchin'_ you?"

"So you are self-taught?"

"I've always been a _fas' learn'r_." He chuckled, as they continued walking. By the time they were mere feet from the house, Ziva turned to him, taking his shirt in her hands. He rolled his eyes, but met her gaze, willing to listen.

"Tim." Green eyes met brown, and he waited, letting her gather her thoughts. Suddenly, the buttons of his shirt became awfully fascinating. She bit her lip, and he reached up, taking her hand as she began twisting her hands in the fabric.

"Zivaleh, _jus' spi' i' ou'_." She glanced up at him.

"Spit what out?" He raised an eyebrow, sighing in exasperation as her gaze moved back to his shirt. She chewed her bottom lip. "If you pass _Abba_ 's trial run, then... then that means... he will make you an agent... ah... officer."

"I know."

"Is this what you really want?"

Tim sighed, sliding his arms around her waist and pulling her closer. "I _jus' canna si'_ by _an' wa'ch anymo'_ , Zivaleh. _Ir'land_ 's called _fo' 'noth'r ceasef're. 'twon't las'. No'_ as long as _th' Br'tish_ still _'old resid'nce_ in _Ir'land_. _Lon'_ as _Br'tain_ stays, Sarah _an'_ I can _nev'r_ go _'ome_."

She sniffled. "This is your home, Tim. Ireland is... it is just where you and Sarah were born. Israel is your home, we..." She glanced over her shoulder at the house; she could see _Abba_ standing on the porch, talking with _Ima_. "We are your home, your family."

He rested his forehead to hers, sighing. "Zivaleh, _please_."

"I am your home." Tim met her gaze, running a hand up her back.

"You are _par' o'_ my _'ome_."

And before she could reply, he kissed her deeply, pulling her closer, barely registering Rivka's excited squeal.


	13. Chapter 13

**Rifiuto: Non Mirena**

 **A/N: I'm guessing this reference is so she didn't get confused; she's changed a few dates so it fits with this specific AU:**

 **Ari- born in 1974**

 **Tim- born in 1979**

 **Ziva- born in 1981**

 **Sarah- born in 1983**

 **Tali- born in 1984**

 **Thanks to Reader aka Sun Samurai for reviewing 8, 9, 10, 11 and 12.**

 _Tel Aviv,_

 _Israel_

 _1998_

The door to the bathroom shut; a scream soon sounded and the door was opened and then slammed. _"Wha' did ye d' t' me?"_

 _"You said to cut it, Sarit!"_

 _"Bu' no' tha' sh'rt, Tali!"_

Rivka winced, glancing at her stepson as she took a seat at the table across from him. Home on holiday from London, Ari had returned to great surprise, to see his little sisters nearly full-grown women, and Timothy and Sarah, whom he'd looked on as surrogate siblings, near grown themselves. Of course, Tali and Sarah had rushed to him, throwing their arms tight around his neck, not caring that they were now in their early teens- Sarah at fifteen and Tali, a few months behind at fourteen- only caring that the family was now whole again.

He'd kissed each of them before pulling away; wrapping Rivka in a hug and then doing the same to his father, before turning to Ziva and Tim. She had gone to him, excited beyond words to have her older brother back. But it was Timothy who'd hung back, nervous. At nineteen, Timothy had grown, coming into his own, but that quiet, considerate spirit was still there. And Ari would have been lying if he'd missed the glances Ziva shot the young redhead.

Clearly, there was something between the pair.

"What is going on between Timothy and Ziva?"

Rivka sipped her tea, gathering her thoughts. She knew Ari wouldn't approve; if anything, he'd be the first one to congratulate them. He'd looked on Tim as a younger brother- an in-law, joined to the family by marriage or relationship to Ziva, for the girl had made it clear from the moment they picked the two young Irish children up at the airport that Timothy was hers and hers alone. If wedding bells weren't heard in the future, then something had gone terribly, horribly wrong.

His stepmother sighed, wincing as Sarah's bedroom door slammed. _"Sarit, please! I did not mean to! Sarah!"_

"It started after Zivaleh turned fourteen."

"Is it serious?" Rivka shrugged.

"I do not know. Your father does not know. I do not think even _they_ know."

"And you are allowing it, _Ima_?" His stepmother chuckled. "Under your and _Abba_ 's own roof?"

"Arieh, _relax_. Tim came to us the night he and Ziva first kissed and told us. He was worried of how we would react, because of the two years between them. We set up rules- as long as it does not turn physical- sexual-" She clarified at her son's startled look. "while they are living under our roof and Ziva is still underage, we allow it. It would do us _no good_ to forbid Zivaleh, you know how stubborn she is, especially when she wants something. And Timothy-" She sipped her tea.

"What about Timothy?"

"He is a good boy. A respectable boy. He will not try anything unless he asks our consent first, because it is how his parents raised him."

"How you raised him."

She shrugged. "Perhaps. Both us and Mr. and Mrs. McGee back in Ireland."

Just as Ari opened his mouth to speak, Sarah came darting into the kitchen, Tali on her heels. Ziva, who'd been sitting on the sofa, leafing through Tim's _Encyclopedia of Saints_ , looked up, startled to see the shape Sarah's hair was in. She let out a laugh as she set the book down and rushed to join them. "What in the world happened, _Sarit_? Did you lose a fight with a lawnblower?" Sarah turned to glare at the older girl, but didn't bother correcting her.

Her copper-red locks were hacked away in various places, leaving some strands longer than others, and very noticeable gaps in other areas. "I _sai'_ I w _ant'd t' cu' me 'air, an'_ Tali _ask'd_ if she _cou'd d'_ it _f'r_ me, _sos_ I _wou'dn't 'ad t'_. I _sai'_ a _coupl' inches an'_ she _doe' thi'_!"

"I said I was sorry." The girl in question replied, crossing her arms.

 _"Talia."_ The girl rolled her eyes, taking a seat at the table across from her mother. Rivka beckoned Sarah over as she scooted back. Taking the scissors, she patted her lap, running her fingers through the girl's misshapen hair once before, "How short did you want it, _Sarit_?" The fifteen-year-old sniffled, turning to her surrogate mother. She quickly tapped an inch below her earlobe, and Rivka nodded in understanding. Hearing the scissors open, Sarah buried her face in her hands, but Rivka reached up, yanking her hands down. "Hold still."

Ziva, having quickly lost interest in the hair debacle, turned her attention to the door. Eli and Tim had both been at work, and weren't sure when they'd be able to join them in Be'er Sheva. As expected, Tim had passed Eli's trial run, therefore becoming a full-fledged Mossad officer- something that worried Ziva to no end. She moved out of the kitchen, towards the front door, peeking quickly through the window, searching for a familiar car. Ari, seeing his sister's distraction, followed.

Though seven years separated them in age, that didn't mean he was any less concerned about her than Tali. He leaned against the far wall, hands in his pockets. "So I hear Timothy joined Mossad." Ziva turned to him, nodding. He chuckled. "I never thought our mild-mannered Timothy would join such a violent faction."

"He is not as mild-mannered as you think, Ari." She muttered, turning back to the window.

"Of course not. He is Irish. The Irish have a... peculiar way about them. Always have, I suspect."

"What do you want, Ari?" Ziva asked, turning to him. Her brother sighed.

"Do you love him, Zivaleh?"

 _"Ken."_

"You are seventeen. What do you know of love?"

"I know that it makes my heart race, and my stomach flip when I am around him. I know that seeing him every day makes me happy and that it hurts to be away from him. I know that I want to spend my life with him. Forever." Her brother chuckled. "Besides, you are twenty-four, what do _you_ know of love, Ari?"

He made his way towards her, taking her shoulders and turning her to face him. He studied her for a moment, before glancing out the window, a grin tugging at his features. "I know that I have never seen you happier because of it." He then pressed a kiss to her forehead, before glancing back out the window. Ziva followed his gaze, letting out a squeal when she saw their car pull up. The door banged shut behind her, and he laughed softly, watching as she dashed towards the occupants as the car pulled to a stop.


	14. Chapter 14

**Rifiuto: Non Mirena**

Eli watched in silent delight as his daughter rushed towards the passenger-side door, yanking it open and throwing herself into Timothy's lap before he even had a chance to discover what was going on. The Mossad director moved around the car, soon finding himself swarmed as Tali and Sarah rushed to him, Ari following behind. Rivka stood back, enjoying the scene of her family all together again. She craned her neck, catching sight of Ziva sitting in Tim's lap, drinking hungrily from him, as though she were never going to see him again. By the time she finally allowed him to get out of the car, Tim's cheeks were as red as his hair.

"Come inside, all of you!"

Once the happy reunion had been moved into the house- both Eli and Rivka were grateful they'd moved out of the apartment into a small house in a quieter suburb of Tel Aviv a couple years ago, not far from downtown- Rivka set about fixing tea and coffee, enjoying the happy chatter that filled the living room.

"I have missed you, my love." She turned, nuzzling her nose against Eli's cheek as he slid his arms around her waist.

"And I you." He kissed her firmly, before taking the cups from her hands and going into the living room. At one point, Tali turned the TV on, leaving it on the news and lowering the volume-

"Hold on, Tali, can you turn it up?"

"Timmy, what is it?" He waved his sister's question away, scooting to the edge of sofa, gaze transfixed on the TV.

 _"... it is suspected tha' th' bomb blas' in Omagh killed a' leas' twenty-nine people. The Real IRA is takin' credit f'r th' bombin'..."_

Sarah choked on a gasp, quickly covering her mouth with her hand as they watched footage of police and paramedics carry the injured out of the streets of Omagh's town square. Though they'd been children when they left Ireland, both Tim and Sarah remembered Omagh well- their father's sister Elizabeth lived in Omagh with her family; she owned a bookshop on Lower Market Street- one their parents had often taken them too before they left. Elizabeth adored them both, and often joked that she and John had been given the wrong children; both Tim and Sarah's memories of their aunt were filled with stories and cookies the smell of new books, fresh from the printers... in fact, Tim's copies of both Uris's _Trinity_ and _Redemption_ had been gifts from his aunt, given to him just days before they'd left for Israel. To think that the bookstore was now gone-

 _"Oh, God, Timmy-"_ He went to his sister, pulling her into his arms. Footage moved, showing the wreckage of Lower Market Street, and Sarah broke down, clinging to her brother. Neither heard the phone ring, and it was only when Eli moved to answer it.

 _"Shalom."_ He looked up, meeting Rivka's eyes. "They are here, John, one moment." He made his way to the siblings, holding the phone out to Tim. "It is your father, Timothy." The boy looked up at him, suddenly that frightened little boy they'd picked up from the airport again. Slowly, he took it, as Ziva quickly muted the TV; they listened, waiting with bated breath.

 _"Da?"_ Sarah managed to stop her sobs as she waited, the phone held between them as they listened. _"Please-"_

" _I'ma_ sorry, loves... _yer Mams an'_ I... we identified _'er_ this _aft'noon_."

Sarah let out a scream, and after wishing them goodbye and hoping they were safe, he hung up, gathering his sister back into his arms. The phone dropped from his hand, landing on the floor at their feet, and he tightened his hold on Sarah, rocking her gently back and forth, tears clouding his vision. He sniffled, glancing at the TV, murmuring softly to himself, though the others all heard it. _"Bless'd St. Brigid, Patroness o' ou' Bless'd isles. Why dinna 'ave t' take aintin? She dinna 'urt anybody."_

Later that night, after a quiet dinner, both Tim and Sarah retired early, not in the mood to stay up and converse when their family back in Ireland had just been ripped apart. After an hour or so, Ziva fixed a cup of tea and headed back to her room when she stopped in the hallway, a voice catching her attention. Silently, she made her way to Tim's room, peeking through the gap in the door.

On his knees by the bed with his back to her, he was whispering something, the occasional rattle of what sounded like beads making themselves known. Silently, she pushed the door open, slipping inside and shutting it behind her. _"Bless'd St. Brigid, Mother o' th' 'oliest o' Churches..."_

Though Ziva had witnessed both Tim and Sarah in prayer- often at night before bed- it had always been lighthearted, soft whispers and giggles as they maintained the traditions they'd brought from Ireland; and though there was no church for them to attend nor Communion for them to take, they made due, often taking a couple hours a day to ask for God to watch over their family back home. At first, it had been strange, hearing Catholic prayers in their Jewish household, but eventually, everyone in the family got used to it, and even delighted in such a diverse tradition to their own taking place. But this...

This was now nothing more than pure, heartbreaking, soul-wrenching pain.

She stood in the shadows, watching as Tim continued reciting the prayers, counting the beads, until the door opened and Sarah slipped inside. He looked up. "I... _dinna want'a b' 'lone_." Her brother gave her a small smile, and the girl joined him. Ziva watched as Sarah took her brother's hand, leaning her head on his shoulder, eyes closing as she listened to his whispering of the prayers, drawing strength from her brother's presence.

Eventually, Sarah returned to her room, pressing a kiss to her brother's cheek before doing so; Tim stood, shutting the door softly behind Sarah. " _'ow_ long _'ave ye_ been _standin'_ there, Zivaleh?"

Slowly, she came out of the shadows, embarrassed to have been caught. "How did you know-"

When he met her gaze, she saw nothing but grief. "I _canna_ smell _yer_ shampoo. _I'ma no'_ stupid."

"I did not say you were." She watched him take a seat on the bed, going to him when he held out a hand. She set the cup on the nightstand before reaching for the rosary. "It is very beautiful, where did you get it?" He sat back against the headboard, watching her study the beads.

" _Mams_ gave one _t'_ both Sarah _an'_ I when we _lef' Ir'land_." He reached out, touching the beads as he spoke. "There are _fifty-fou'_ beads, plus five additional beads, which are counted physically as prayers are _sai'_." He took it from her, whispering softly as he ran his fingers over each bead. Ziva watched, fascinated; she knew both Tim and Sarah were devout Catholics, but weren't aware of how devout. " _Th'_ cross is Celtic, _'tis thoug' tha' Patr'ck_ created _th'_ cross in order _t'_ easier _conver' th'_ pagan Irish, thereby _drivin' th_ ' snakes from _Ir'land_."

"Paganism." He nodded. "I never knew-"

He shrugged. "I _nev'r_ told _ye_." A moment passed, as he closed his eyes, taking a deep breath and reciting softly under his breath as he quickly counted the beads. _"'oly Moth'r Mary, full o' Grace... guide aintin int' ou' Lord's waitin' arms..."_ He choked on a sob, and slowly, Ziva scooted closer, curling into his side. She pressed a kiss to his cheek, holding him close. He slid an arm around her waist, holding her to him.

"I am sorry about your aunt, Tim." Silence filled the air, silence that was soon broken by soft sobs.


	15. Chapter 15

**Rifiuto: Non Mirena**

 _Be'er Sheva,_

 _Israel_

 _2000_

They lay side-by-side together on the blanket, spread out in the dirt of the olive groves. It was a rare afternoon where the weather was cool enough that they needed at least light jackets. After a moment, he turned his head, drinking in her profile. Having just turned nineteen two days earlier, Tim found he was unable to keep his eyes off her.

Ziva had certainly blossomed in the last couple of years- in the final year of her teens, she seemed to grow, becoming a creature of almost intense sexual beauty. No longer a stick-straight girl, she was developing curves that Tim died to run his hands down. And though her bust was small, it perfectly fit her height and size. Yes, in these last two years, the Israeli beauty had certainly come into her own.

"What are you staring at, Timothy?" She asked, her vocal chords softly caressing every syllable of his name. He grinned, shaking his head.

 _"Nothin'."_

She raised an eyebrow, shifting onto her side and propping herself onto her elbow. Her hair tumbled down her back in dark waves, and she pressed her tongue into her cheek, thinking. "Nothing? Huh. Am I really that unattractive that you see nothing before you?"

He rolled his eyes. "There's _nothin' un'ttractive 'bout ye_ , Zivaleh."

She moved closer, until she lay pressed against his side. "Say it again. My name."

A soft chuckle escaped his throat, and he grinned softly. "Zivaleh."

A smile broke out on her features, making her all the more lovely, and then she leaned down, capturing his lips in a deep kiss. Ziva slid a hand into his hair, tangling her fingers in the strands, and slowly, Tim rested his hand gently beneath her breast, before sliding it down over her curves to caress her hip, pulling her closer. He drank deeply from her, exploring every crevice of her mouth, tasting every nook and cranny-

"Tim, Ziva! Dinner!" The pair broke apart, turning at the sound of Tali's voice from the porch, the moment ruined.

The evening meal was quiet as usual, until Ziva decided to startle all of them. She glanced at Tim, reaching over and running her bare toes up his leg underneath the table. He turned to her, meeting her gaze with a quick smile. Sarah made a face.

"Ugh, do you two _have_ to play footsie during dinner? _Cuireann sé sin déistin orm_."

Tim rolled his eyes, glaring at his sister, who at seventeen thought she knew better than everyone else. "Oh, _ye wou'd_ , Sarah." His sister stuck her tongue out at him, and he returned it. Rivka chuckled.

"That is quite enough you two. Now eat." They both quickly whispered apologies, and returned to dinner; silence settled once more at the table before Ziva spoke.

"I am going to join Mossad."

Eli choked on his water. "I... I am sorry, Zivaleh, did you say that you are going to join Mossad?"

His daughter nodded. " _Ken, Abba_."

The assistant director sighed. "Zivaleh, please tell me you are joking." When she didn't reply, he rubbed his face. "Would you excuse us for a moment, I need to talk to my daughter." He stood, motioning for Ziva to follow. Once outside on the porch, Eli turned to her. "Ziva, Mossad is dangerous."

"I know."

"Your mother and I want you to go to University."

"I do not want to go to university. I want to join Mossad." Her father sighed. "I have been in the Army, as is required of all Israelis. Tali is to be drafted once she reaches eighteen! By then I will be in my twenties! I am _tired_ of the _Army, Abba_! I have served my time for the IDF and I _want a change_. Mossad will give me that change!"

"Ziva-"

"You allowed Tim to join Mossad at _eighteen!_ He was a year younger than I am now! _A Catholic!_ "

"He was willing to fight for Israel-"

 _"And so am I, Abba!"_ She grabbed his hand. _"Please, Abba! Let me join Mossad!"_

But Eli shook his head. "Your mother and I want what is best for you, Ziva. Mossad is not what is best for you."

Her gaze narrowed, and she grit her teeth. "So you would rather I sit in some classroom for the next four years, wasting my time on a degree I will never use, while Tim risks his life for a country that is _not even his_? He is not even your son! _I_ am your _daughter_! Mossad is _my right, not his!_ "

"Oh for God's sake, Ziva!" She stopped, surprised. Eli rarely raised his voice to any of them, but especially her. "Timothy volunteered. He wished to do something that helped the world as opposed to sitting by and watching the violence that has torn his country apart. He has done good work in Mossad, and more than proven his worth. He worked- hard- to rise through the ranks. I recommended him personally for _Komemiute_. He has worked to get where he is in the three short years he has been with the agency. Tim's place is within Mossad; yours is not. I am sorry, Zivaleh, but I will not allow it."

The girl took a deep breath, reaching up to quickly wipe the tears away. "It is not fair." She met his gaze. "Tim is not yours, he is _not_ part of this family! _Sarah_ is not part of this family! _I am!_ "

"Ziva-"

 _"I am blood!"_

"That is _enough_ , Zivaleh; this conversation is _over_." And without another word, Eli slipped back through the open porch door into the house. After several minutes, Ziva followed; Tim and Sarah were helping Rivka and Tali clean up the kitchen. Without a word, she stormed over to Tim, and in one fell swoop, struck him hard across the cheek. Of course, Sarah, seeing such, dropped the plate she'd meant to put in the sink, shattering it, and stepped towards the older girl.

 _"Leave my broth'r alone!"_

 _"Sarah!"_

But Ziva's voice broke through any argument the siblings might have had. _"I hate you! I wish you had never come to Israel! Either of you! I wish you had stayed in Ireland!"_

 _"Zivaleh!"_

Anger flashed briefly in Tim's green gaze, and he set the dishtowel on the counter, before grabbing her wrist before snatching the keys off the counter and dragging her towards the door. _"Let go of me!"_ She pushed against him, but he turned back to her.

 _"No, Ziva! You an' I need t' 'ave a talk 'bout wha'ev'r's crawled int' yer brain an' warped yer thinkin'!"_ He snapped, tugging once and pushing her out of the front door. _"We're gonna go f'r a drive an' talk!"_ He turned back, but didn't say a word to anyone else as he yanked the door shut; they could hear Ziva's protests all the way to the car and then nothing but the sound of tires pulling away. Rivka sighed, glancing at her husband.

"God help us- and her husband- if this is how she reacts when she becomes pregnant."

Eli met her gaze. "Do not even _joke_ , Rivka."


	16. Chapter 16

**Rifiuto: Non Mirena**

 _Outskirts of Be'er Sheva,_

 _Israel_

 _2000_

The drive to the outskirts of Be'er Sheva proper was quiet- neither said a word to each other; Ziva kept her face turned to the window, staring out at the night. Eventually, they stopped and Tim turned off the ignition and locked the doors so she wouldn't run, turning to her. " _Wha' th' 'ell 'as gott'n int'_ you, Ziva?"

 _"I hate you."_ She replied, turning to him. He narrowed his eyes.

 _"Wha' is wit' you?"_

 _"Why do you not go back to Ireland? Like you want to! And leave my family alone!"_

He shook his head. "Believe me, Ziva, if I _cou'd_ go back _t' Ir'land_ , I _wou'd_. I _wou'd_ leave _an' nev'r_ come back, _bu'_ I _can'. No'_ now. So we _'ave t'_ make _th' bes' o'_ it." He shifted his gaze back to the windshield, tapping his fingers against the steering wheel. " _B'cause clearly ye don' wan' eith'r_ Sarah or I _'ere_. We _don' b'long 'ere_ anyway." He scoffed. "We _prob'ly don'_ even _b'long_ in _Ir'land anym're,_ since we've spent so much time in _Isr'el_." He shook his head. "We _don' b'long anywh're_."

She glanced at him, the angry, hateful tone of his voice penetrating her mind, and slowly, she uncrossed her arms. Slowly, she turned to face him. "You belong with me, Tim."

He met her gaze, snorting derisively. " _Aye, ye_ made _tha' v'ry_ clear, Ziva."

She sighed, leaning back against the headrest. "I just... I feel as though you have taken my place."

"In _wha'_?" He demanded, turning to her. She shrugged.

"My own family." She slumped in the seat. "All _Abba_ does is talk of your accomplishments in Mossad, and how well Sarah is doing in Class Eleven and all the good Ari is doing in England, and how Tali has surpassed everyone in Class Ten and... and when I ask to join Mossad, he tells me that he and _Ima_ want me to go to University. That I do not belong in Mossad, even though he allowed you to join, and you are not even of our faith or heritage."

Tim sighed, closing his eyes briefly. "Ziva-"

"I do not even belong with my own family anymore-" But before she could continue, Tim had leaned over, taking her face in his hands and capturing her mouth with his. A moment passed as Ziva got over the shock, but once she had, she reached up, tangling a hand in Tim's hair. They broke apart, gazes locking, before she trailed her hand down his shirt. An entire conversation passed between them, and in a matter of minutes, they'd scrambled into the back seat.

She captured his lips, drinking deeply from him as his arms slid around her waist, pulling her into his lap. Situated in his lap, she proceeded to unbutton his shirt and quickly remove it before doing the same with his undershirt. He slid his arms around her waist, slipping his hands beneath her shirt and tugging it up; it landed on the floor, leaving her in only her shorts and bra. Without a word, she moved off his lap onto the backseat, tugging him with her.

Suddenly, the argument between them, her outburst at her father, all the resentment she'd unwillingly held, was gone, completely forgotten as Tim joined her, his mouth finding hers again. Breaking the kiss, Tim then moved to kiss the soft swells of her breasts, gently tugging the straps of her bra down as he did so. She met his gaze, curious. "Do you approve?"

He raised an eyebrow, choking on a soft laugh. " _O'_ your breasts?" She nodded. "I _'pprove o'_ all _o'_ you, Ziva." He kissed her deeply. " _O' ev'rythin' 'bout_ you."

She grinned, reaching up to gently caress his cheek. "Love you, Tim." He smiled at her, nuzzling against her cheek, even as she reached down and helped him out of his jeans. She then allowed him to help her shimmy out of her shorts, leaving her in her underwear. Her returned his mouth to her breasts, kissing the soft skin as he slowly reached behind her and unhooked the garment, tossing it aside as his lips brushed against the underside. He brushed a thumb over the sensitive nipple of one, causing her to hiss softly, before taking it in his mouth and gently caressing it with his tongue. Ziva let out a soft groan, arching her back as he pulled away and did the same to the other side.

Once both were out of their underwear, Ziva slid a hand down his chest and over his waist. She met his gaze, teeth sliding out to worry her lower lip. "I want to do this, Tim."

He chuckled, meeting her gaze and gently nudging his nose against her. "So do I."

But she gently pushed him away when he moved to kiss her again. "Please tell me you brought protection. _Abba_ and _Ima_ would never forgive us if this wasn't protected." He snorted softly as she sat up, watching as he grabbed his jeans.

" _Abba an' Ima_ will _nev'r_ forgive us _f'r doin'_ this in _th' firs'_ place." He replied, searching his pockets. "I _don'_ know _tha'_ I-" Ziva's eyes widened as he pulled a small, wrapped square of foil from his back pocket. Tim rolled his eyes. " _Sarah_."

She giggled, sitting back against the side of the car. "So... even _Sarit_ wants us to..." She met his gaze. "Are we going to?" His mouth met hers, and after several minutes, he managed to pull away long enough to put the condom on. Satisfied, Ziva climbed into his lap, her mouth once more meeting his. She reached down, gently stroking his length, a silent thrill running through her at the realization that the boy she'd loved for years was about to become hers and she his. Finally, she settled herself comfortably in his lap, hissing softly as she felt him break her and then worked on getting comfortable. Once finally settled, she rested her forehead to his, giggling softly. "Together... we are finally together..."

Tim shook his head. "We _'ave_ always been _t'gether_." He reached up, caressing her cheek. " _Jus'... no'_ like this." The kiss was soft, loving. "I love you, Zivaleh."

She broke into a grin, throwing her arms around his neck. She had waited years to hear those three little words from him, giving him space, time-

"I love you, Tim."

They snuck back into the house about midnight, hoping everyone had gone to bed. A light, however, flicked on in the living room, and Rivka sat back against the arm of the sofa, Eli beside her. She folded her hands in her lap, dark eyes studying the two. It was clear- very clear- from the way they had haphazardly gotten dressed; how Tim's shirt was on inside out and his over shirt upside down, and Ziva's shorts being on backwards- that the pair had struggled to redress before sneaking back into the house. From what she could tell, her daughter wasn't even wearing a bra. "Well, I see you two have made up."

"Sit, both of you. We need to talk." Rivka glanced at her husband out of the corner of her eye, as slowly, the two did as told, joining them on the sofa.

"Just so we are clear first and foremost," She began once they were seated, "it will _always_ be protected. Your father and I will not tolerate unprotected sex under this roof or _any other_ roof you two decide to sleep under. We will have no sexually transmitted diseases and no babies, are we clear?" They nodded. "Good. Now, I trust that you two found the condom I slipped into Tim's pocket earlier."

Safe to say, both Tim and Ziva's jaws hit the floor.


	17. Chapter 17

**Rifiuto: Non Mirena**

 **Thanks to MusicWithinMe and Reader aka Sun Samurai for reviewing 13, 14, 15 and 16.**

 _Tel Aviv,_

 _Israel_

 _2001_

"But _why_ , Tim? You have both my father _and_ my mother's blessing. Why do we need it again?"

" _B'cause_ ," He stopped chopping the basil, leaning over and kissing her chastely as she leaned against the counter, arms crossed over her chest. "I _wan'_ it."

She rolled her eyes. "We got their blessing the night we slept together, is that not enough for you?"

"No."

"Well, it is for me." She replied, grabbing a sprig and biting into it. "And it should be for you, too."

He ignored her momentarily as he gathered up the herb, tossing it into the bowl and quickly washing his hands. He then turned to her, watching as she waved the half-eaten sprig around like a magic wand briefly before taking another bite. Sighing, he leaned against the counter, facing her. "Zivaleh, I am dating the daughter of the couple who took my sister _an'_ I in thirteen years ago when we fled _Ir'land_. Sarah _an'_ I look at them as our surrogate parents. They raised us. So, forgive me, if I want their _blessin' t'_ continue _seein'_ you."

She rolled her eyes. "You are going to see me anyway, Timothy. We live together, _and work_ together, remember?" She asked, leaning against the counter and finishing off her sprig of basil, chin propped in one hand. Ziva had joined Mossad the year before, and though she wasn't as high in the ranks as Tim, she was a damn good officer in her own right; though it was clear which of the two held the most power. While some dared to cross Ziva, _no one_ dared cross Tim.

"I know. You remind me-" He went to her, lifting her up and setting her on the counter, much to her surprised laughter. " _ev'ry_ chance _ye_ get."

 _"Tim!"_ She giggled as he slid his arms around her waist, pulling her closer.

"What? Hmm? Would _ye rath'r_ I stop?" She shook her head, laughing softly.

"Never stop." They soon lost themselves in a deep kiss; Ziva slid one leg around his waist, holding him between her legs, as she slid one hand into his hair. He slipped a hand beneath her over shirt, trailing down her side to grasp at her hip-

" _Not_ in my house and _not_ on our kitchen counter. What have your father and I told you about our rules? If you want to make love on a counter, then buy your own house and make love on your _own_ counter, but not on ours." The pair broke apart, turning to see Rivka enter with Tali and Sarah in tow. Slowly, Tim pulled away.

"Sorry, _Ima_." She sighed, glancing at him. He glanced at Ziva, who'd since hopped off the counter. Sarah stuck her tongue out at her brother- which Tim playfully returned before helping put the groceries. Rivka set to work fixing a pot of tea, watching out of the corner of her eye as her kids set to work putting everything in its proper place.

Silently, she was amazed at how much her children had grown up- Timothy and Ziva in particular. Now both fully grown adults- Ziva, at almost twenty, and Tim, just two months shy of his twenty-second birthday- her oldest had both gone into "the family business" as Ari often joked in regards to Mossad. Timothy had gotten taller, toner, his hair had darkened to an almost reddish brown, though there were streaks of both deep, dark red and golden blonde in his hair from the hours in the sun. His green eyes, like Sarah's, still sparkled, and both had lost many of the freckles across their noses- on a few remained now. If one didn't know any better, they would assume both Tim and Sarah had been born in Israel, for they were tan- not as dark and Ziva and Tali, but still.

Tim quickly finished putting the salad together and placed the bowl in the fridge to set before turning to her. He bit his lip.

"Something you need, _ahava_?"

"Can I talk to you for a minute, _Ima_?"

Ziva's head snapped up. "Tim, do _not_. _Do not ask!"_

But he ignored her. "Alone?" Rivka glanced at her daughter before nodding for him to follow her.

"Oh, God."

"What's wrong, Ziva?" She looked up; Sarah and Tali had finished putting the last few groceries away, and turned to her. She sighed.

"Tim is asking Ima for permission, again."

"Well, _tha's_ good, _isn'_ it?" Sarah asked, confused. "Means _'e_ cares _'bout ye_."

"He already _has_ permission, _Sarit_."

"Oh." Ziva nodded. After a moment, she left the kitchen, heading for the study where the two had slipped into the talk. She stopped midway across the hall, though, deciding against it. Instead of going to the study, she headed for her room, slipping inside and shutting the door softly behind her. Collapsing on the bed, she let her mind wander.

How exactly had she gotten into this position? Falling for a son of Ireland instead of Israel? Was she really that desperate for a real, human relationship she'd turn her back on her own countrymen? She shook her head. No. She loved Tim. It was the kind of love that came from deep, unexpected surprise. The kind that grabbed you around the waist and never let you go. The kind that resulted in engagements and weddings and babies. Beautiful babies with his eyes and her smile-

"Zivaleh?" She looked up as Tali poked her head into the room. _"At beseder?"_

"Ken, Tali, I am okay, just... thinking."

"About what?" The girl slipped into the room, shutting the door softly behind her and took a seat on the bed. After a moment, Ziva sat up against the headboard.

"Tim and I." Her sister nodded. At just barely a day past her seventeenth birthday, Tali seemed to be the wisest of all five of the kids. Quiet and observant, she spent her afternoons at the dance studio, and had just been offered an audition spot for the Israel Ballet. Though she was almost out of high school, Tali had yet to discover boys, and Rivka was dreading the day her youngest daughter finally made the discovery. She was hoping Tali would wait- at least until her sister and Tim had married.

"What about you? Do you not love him anymore?"

"No, I... I love him deeply."

"Then does he not love you?" She held up her hands at her sister's glare. " _Ani lo mevina._ If you love him and he loves you, then what is the problem?"

Ziva shrugged. "I am... scared. What if he stops loving me? Or... or what if he and Sarah go back to Ireland and... and he meets someone else?"

Tali sighed, scooting towards her sister and wrapping her in her arms. "Oh, Zivaleh. That is silly. Tim and _Sarit_ will not return to Ireland."

"How do you know?"

"Because their lives are here. Israel is their home now. Ireland is just where they were born." She pressed a kiss to her sister's head, holding her close.


	18. Chapter 18

**Rifiuto: Non Mirena**

" _Ani lo mevina._ You have asked for our blessing, Timothy, and we have given it to you. We gave it to you-"

"I know, _Ima._ " Tim sighed, resting his elbows on his arms.

"Then why are you asking, _ahava_?"

He sighed, rubbing his hands together. "I..." A moment passed before he got up and started pacing. "I just... I love her. I love Ziva and... I want to ask her to... to move in with me. To get an apartment together." He returned to Rivka. "I know that it's... not like asking her to marry me or anything even remotely as big as that, but-"

"Oh _ahava_ , that is still a big step." She reached out, taking his hand. "Do you feel you are ready?"

Tim sighed. "It's _no'_ that I _don'_ love either you or _Abba, Ima,_ I _jus'_... I want own place. My own home. A place that I can call mine. And... if Ziva agrees..." He glanced at their hands. "Ours."

A moment passed before Rivka stood, moving to perch on the arm of his chair. "You wish my blessing for this?" He nodded.

"I already asked _Abba_. He gave it. Please, _Ima_. I will still be over for dinner and... I just... _'tis_ time _t' star'_ my own life, _isn'_ it?" Rivka gently reached up, brushing a strand out of his eyes. It touched her, that this little boy who'd come to her and Eli so scared and frightened thirteen years ago, had grown into a responsible, hardworking young man, willing to ask permission to begin a new life with their daughter.

"Of course it is, _ahava_." She leaned down, pressing a soft kiss to his head. "If you think you are ready, then _Abba_ and I will support you in any way we can." She rested her cheek against his head, before brushing another kiss to his hair. "We only want what is best for you. For both you and _Sarit_. You are as much our children as Tali, Ziva and Ari are."

As he slipped out of the study, he found Ziva coming down the hall with Tali. The younger girl glanced at him before slipping past, leaving the two together. He smiled softly at her, wrapping her in a hug. She burrowed into his arms, holding tight to him. "Did you talk with _Ima_?"

He nodded. " _Aye_. I did."

"About what?"

He slid his arms around her waist, holding her to him, unaware that Rivka had slipped out of the study. "Us." She raised an eyebrow. "I want us to move into together."

She started. "Ah... in together as in... a _house_?"

He shrugged. "Or an apartment first. See if we can live together _wit'ou' killin'_ each other before we buy a house."

She laughed, throwing her arms around his neck. "I would love to live together with you, Tim."

Relaxing, he gently squeezed her waist, before pressing a kiss to her head. "Good. I _wasn'_ sure _wha'_ I was _gonna_ do if _ye sai'_ no."

"Come eat you two. We can discuss it after _Abba_ gets home."

Lunch was filled with laughter and soft conversation, silent looks and obvious teasing on Sarah and Tali's part. Tim glanced towards Eli's chair; the Mossad director had been called into work on a national holiday, to deal with God only knew what. Rivka glanced at each of her children- with Ari still in London, that left the girls at home, but now that Ziva and Tim would be moving into their own place-

She sighed. Tim and Sarah were as much a part of her family as Ari and the girls. They had gone from frightened children fleeing a war zone to strong, independent adults with a good grasp on the world around them. At eighteen, Sarah was striking; her hair was as dark as Tim's and her eyes just as bright; both possessed the sparkle of fresh cut emeralds.

A small twinge of guilt plagued her. Their parents had been forced to watch their only children grow up from afar, speaking to them only by phone or letter. They hadn't been there when Tim got his license or Sarah graduated from school. They hadn't been there for birthdays, graduations, holidays- though it was understandable why, it still wasn't right. But one day, their parents would want them back-

 _And when that day comes, you are going to have to let them go._

She swallowed, watching as Tim leaned over, brushing a soft kiss to ziva's lips. They were so happy, so obviously in love... and the prospect that he would one day have to choose between Israel and Ireland, she and Eli and his birth parents, Ziva and an unknown future-

"Are you all right, _Ima_?" Her head snapped up, to find all four of them watching her.

"I am sorry?"

"Are you okay? You looked pale for a moment." Tim said, getting up and going to her. She met his gaze, stopping him as he moved to kneel beside her.

"I am fine, _ahava_ , I promise. Just... the heat is just getting to me. It is unnaturally warm today, even for Israel." She stood. "I think I will go lie down." And with a soft nod, she excused herself. She stretched out on the sofa, taking a deep breath as she stared up at the ceiling before covering her eyes with her arm. But soon the scent of Jasmine tea filled her nose and she lifted her arm, to see Tim set the cup on the small side table and perch on the edge of the coffee table.

"Are _ye_ sure _ye'r_ okay, _Ima_? _Ye_ really _don'_ look well."

She reached up, tracing the scar he acquired down his left cheek during a mission a few years ago. Everyone had panicked when he came home with stitches; Ziva had broken down, terrified she'd lost him. A small smile graced her lips. "I am fine, _ahava_. I promise." A moment passed before he nodded, catching her hand and pressing a firm kiss to her palm before getting up and leaning close, brushing a kiss to her forehead.

"Get some sleep, _Ima_. Things will look _bett'r aft'r_ a nap."

She watched him return to the kitchen to help. _If only that were true, ahava. If only that were true._


	19. Chapter 19

**Rifiuto: Non Mirena**

 _Tel Aviv,_

 _Israel_

 _2003_

Ziva sat up, stretching. She relaxed, turning at the feel of fingers trailing down the curve of her spine, and she turned, to find Tim watching her. "What is this look?"

He shook his head. " _Nothin', jus'... admirin' th'_ beauty I get _t'_ wake up _t' ev'ry morin'_ now."

She grinned, leaning down and kissing him softly. They had managed to find a small apartment in downtown Tel Aviv, not far from Mossad Headquarters, and with some help, had managed to put a down payment on the place before moving in. Though they had only been in the apartment little under a year now, they still spent weekends- and sometimes nights- at Ziva's parents house.

After quickly checking the time, she slipped out of bed, heading for the bathroom to take a quick shower. Tim watched her, letting his eyes run down every curve. At the door, she stopped, turning back. "Are you going to join me?" He chuckled softly.

"Not this morning, Zivaleh. I took a shower last night." Once she was gone, he got up, quickly getting dressed before heading to the kitchen to fix coffee. Just as it finished brewing, the door opened, and Sarah dashed inside, slamming the door behind her. " _Dia dhuit ar maidin_ , Sarah."

The young woman dropped her bag on the counter and went to her brother, pressing a kiss to his cheek before grabbing a cup. Having joined Mossad- against Tim's wishes- at eighteen, Sarah had quickly proven herself a valuable asset, what with her gift for languages- though a lower officer, she was primarily called in as a translator in certain situations.

Of course, the running joke in the _Da_ vid household had been that all they needed was to wait for Tali to come of age so she could join, and that would take 'keeping it in the family' to a whole new level. Of course, after her time with the IDF, Tali had, as everyone suspected, and Ari had predicted, joined Mossad, making him the only one of Eli and Rivka's children not in the "family business."

Now at twenty, Sarah was fluent in ten languages- four less than her brother and two less than Ziva- and she spent a good majority of her time at Mossad listening to undercover recordings of potential targets and deciphering them. And of course, no one could deny that it was a little strange, having two Irish Catholics within the ranks of Mossad, but they also couldn't deny that both Tim and Sarah did good work- sometimes ten times better than most agents born of Israeli decent. Tim looked up as Ziva soon came into the kitchen, curls dry and held back- or attempted- by barrettes.

"Ah, _Boker Tov, Sarit_." Ziva made her way towards the younger girl, pressing a soft kiss to her cheek which Sarah returned, before going to Tim and taking his cup. She took a sip before handing it back to him.

" _Abba_ wants us in his office in an hour." Sarah said, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear and taking a sip from her mug.

 _"Wha' 'bout?"_ Tim asked, finishing his coffee and setting the cup in the sink. Sarah shrugged.

"How should I know? He _jus'_ called _an'_ told me _t'_ tell _ye_ we need _t'_ be in his office." Her brother rolled his eyes, checking the time on his cellphone- nearly four. "We _don'_ go in _f'r 'nother_ hour-"

" _I'ma jus' relayin' wha' Abba sai'_ , Timmy." Sarah replied, holding up her hands.

They got to Eli's office half an hour early, and were surprised to find Tali sitting on the sofa in the corner, a cup of coffee in her shaking hands; clearly, something had upset her. The girl had since chopped her near-waist-length hair; it fell to her chin in a shaggy A-line bob. Unlike her older sister, Tali had lightened her hair, adding caramel and blonde highlights. The younger girl had also filled out, and was the object of many of the other officers' attentions, not that she cared or noticed.

" _Shalom, A- Ima_? What are you-" Rivka was sitting at Eli's desk, a look of utter despair on her beautiful features. She glanced at her husband before slowly getting up and going around the desk; Eli made his way to Tali, sitting beside her. "What is going on?" Ziva glanced at the siblings, as confused as they were. However, that immediately changed once Rivka reached them; it was now abundantly apparent that she'd been crying. " _Ima_ , you-" But she reached up, resting a finger against Tim's lips.

"Ziva, go sit with your sister, please." The younger woman didn't move. " _Please, Zivaleh_ , go sit with Tali." After a moment, she squeezed Sarah's hand before leaning over and pressing a kiss to Tim's cheek, reluctantly doing as told.

 _"Ima? Wha'_ is it? _Wha's_ wrong?" Rivka sniffled, reaching up and caressing Sarah's cheek.

"You were terribly shy when you came to us that day. And you... mistrusted everyone, and who could blame you? You both had witnessed horrible things in your short time in Belfast, and it scarred you, no doubt. Do you know how we came to take you both in?" The siblings shared a glance. "A friend of your father's, a... Jenny Shepard, had learned about you, and when she was told of the violence, and how there were families all over Ireland sending their children to safety, she contacted a friend of _Abba_ 's, Leon Vance, and told him of the plight of Ireland's children. Leon then contacted Eli and I, explained the situation, and asked if we would be willing to take in a child or a pair of siblings until peace could be declared." She perched on the edge of her husband's desk. "We said yes. At the time, we did not know if we were taking in one child, a pair of siblings, or even more, but we knew that we had to help, so we took you in." She sighed. "Protected you, raised you as our own, loved you, even to this day. We have watched you grow into beautiful, gentle, loving adults, and knowing that Eli and I had a hand in that- it is something we will never forget."

Tim watched her wipe at the tears off her cheeks. " _Ima_ , you... _ye're no' makin'_ any sense. _Ye're talkin'_ like we're _dyin'_ or... or _goin'_ back _t' Ir'land_ or-"

Rivka gave Tim a small smile. "Because you will be."

The siblings shared a glance. "I _don' und'rstan'_." Sarah whispered, as Rivka reached out, taking each of their hands.

"Your parents called this morning. Ireland and England are working on a treaty. They've declared peace, for now. And... and so the children that were taken in during the conflict... they are being called back home."

"Home?" Tim glanced at Sarah. "Back 'home' _where?_ "

"To Ireland, Timothy." Both turned to Eli, and Ziva started, turning to her father as she finally realized what was going on.

"No... no, _Abba_ , please." She swallowed roughly. " _Please, no._ "

Eli reached over, taking her hand. "Hush, Zivaleh."

Both Tim and Sarah turned back to Rivka, now utterly confused. Ireland was home? That couldn't be right. Ireland was their birthplace, but not their home. Israel was their home. " _Ima_ -" But Rivka shook her head, silencing Sarah.

"We want you both to know, that you have never been anything less than our children. You have been a part of our lives for fifteen years, and no matter where you go, you will remain a part of our lives. But we are not your true parents. We did not create you, nor did we truly raise you. But we have loved you, and we will always love you." She took a deep breath, reaching behind her and pressing a button on the speaker. "Channa, will you bring them in, please?"

"Bring _who_ in, _Ima_?" Sarah asked. Rivka's heart broke as she reached up, caressing the girl's cheek.

"Your parents. They want you back." The door opened, but neither sibling noticed.

The click of the door closing caused both siblings to turn. _"Oh, Tim'thy, Sarah-"_

Rivka swallowed thickly. "They have come to take you home."


	20. Chapter 20

**Rifiuto: Non Mirena**

 **Thanks to MusicWithinMe for reviewing 18 and 19 and Reader aka Sun Samurai for reviewing 17,18 and 19.**

 _Oh Bless'd St. Brigid, Patr'ness o' Eirrean, they canna be me child'en._

She choked on a sob, not truly believing this was really happening.

Fifteen years.

They had waited fifteen years to see their children again, and now, here they were, standing before them, all grown up. No longer the innocent babes they'd kissed goodbye at the airport that day in Belfast, frightened and begging to stay, but fully grown adults, perhaps in their early twenties; though they were still as beautiful as the day they'd watched them board the plane for Israel.

She hungrily drank them both in; a brief moment had passed when they entered the room and the two had turned around- for a few fleeting moments, she hadn't recognized them. They had grown up and changed, as every child must, but this-

Both were softly tan, their hair rich reddish brown and streaked from the sun; and the smattering of freckles that had once coated their cheeks and noses- "fairy kisses" as she had called them- were all but gone now, though their eyes were the same striking emerald. Their darling Timothy was tall- six foot one, from what she could figure- with broad shoulders and dark, reddish brown hair, streaked from the sun. But his eyes- they were the same beautiful green he'd had as a baby-

And Sarah, their baby girl...

"Oh, Sarah." She made her way towards her daughter; the girl glanced at her brother and then at Mrs. _Da_ vid, who lowered her gaze.

" _Mams_?" Kathleen McGee smiled softly at her, holding out her arms.

"I'm _'ere_ , baby." Slowly, Sarah moved towards her mother; she reached up, brushing her fingers against Kathleen's cheek, as though checking that she was real, before slowly wrapping her arms around her. " _Da an'_ I are both _'ere_. We're _gonna_ tak _e ye 'ome_." Sarah's green eyes snapped open, and she glanced towards Eli and his daughters, silent, yet her eyes screamed a thousand questions. Eventually, Kathleen pulled away, taking her daughter's face in her hands. "Look _a' ye_... all grown up..."

"Yeah, um..." But Sarah's gaze was soon directed over her mother's shoulder; their father, John McGee, stood back, allowing their mother to greet them first. " _Shalom... Da..._ " She gave a brief wave, and John smiled softly at her.

" _'tis_ good _t'_ see _ye, littl'_ one." Slowly, Sarah made her way to their father, allowing him to wrap her in his arms. " _Ye've_ gotten so big. _'ow_ old are _ye_ now?" She looked up at her father, swallowing thickly.

 _"Tw'nty."_ John's eyes widened.

 _"Tw'nty? S'riously?"_

Sarah nodded. "Timmy's near _tw'nty-fou', Da."_

 _"Tw'nty-fou'?"_ She nodded again. " _'eavenly Fath'r_ preserve us..."

Kathleen turned back to her son, fresh tears in her eyes; Rivka had since then moved away from the desk, giving them space. Ziva reached up, grabbing her mother's hand. " _Ima,_ stop them... they cannot-"

"Look _a'_ you... _me littl'_ boy... _no'_ so _littl' anym're_..." Gently, Kathleen reached up to caress her son's cheek, but Tim pulled away.

"I'm _no' yer littl'_ boy." Kathleen nodded, embarrassed.

"No, _ye're no'. Ye're_... quite grown up-" She sniffled, smiling softly as she reached out to brush her hands over his shoulders, but Tim jerked out of her grasp.

"No thanks _t' eith'r o'_ you."

Kathleen started. "I... _I'ma_ sorry-"

"Yes, _Mams_ , we grew up, both Sarah _an'_ I did. In _Isr'el! No' Ir'land! Isr'el_! _Ye_ _'ad_ no _'and_ in our _upbringin'_ at all!"

"Timothy-"

"And now... _now ye want t' take us back t' a country we 'aven't been t' in fifteen years! You abandoned us, Mams! Both o' us! Sent us t' live wit' comple' strangers in a country we 'ad only ev'r 'eard 'bout in church!"_

"Timothy, you _don' und'rstan'-_ "

 _"I don' und'rstan', Mams? Wha's t' no' und'rstan'? Ye abandoned us! Abandoned! Ye pu' us on a plane an' sen' us t' live wit' strangers! Comple' strangers!"_

Kathleen took a deep breath. " _Ye're righ',_ Timothy. We _nev'r shou'd 'ave_ sent _ye_ away."

Her son scoffed as Sarah pulled away from their father, flinging herself into her brother's side. "Well, guess _wha', Mams_. Those _strangers 'ave_ become more _o'_ a family _t'_ us than you _an' Da 'ave_ been in _th' las'_ _fifteen_ years."

"Timothy, _le'_ us explain-"

"Explain _wha', Da_?" Sarah asked, suddenly realizing that her brother was right. And while the _Da_ vids and their parents may not have seen it as abandonment, both she and her brother did- they had been, after all, the chess pieces used in this unintentional game. "Timmy's _righ'. Ye abandoned us! Sen' us away! Call it wha'ev'r ye want, bu' either way, ye did it! Ye go' rid o' us_. _Did ye ev'r wan' us a' all?"_

" _O' course we did_ , Sarah. We _'ave always wan'ed_ you. We _love_ you- _ye're_ our _chil'ren_."

 _"Ye 'ave_ a real funny way _o' showin'_ it." She replied, pulling away from her brother and fleeing the office. Tim rushed after her, but Kathleen grabbed his arm.

"Timothy-" He turned back to his mother.

" _Ye don'_ know _anythin' 'bout_ us! _Wha' you rem'mber is when we were chil'ren! We've grown up since then, Mams! Both Sarah an' I joined Mossad... I 'ave me own place wi' Ziva, an' I love 'er! I'm gonna marry 'er someday, good Lord willin'! Mr. an' Mrs. David 'ave been more like parents t' us than ye ev'r 'ave or ev'r will be!_ "

And without another word, he pulled away from her, leaving the office to chase after his sister.


	21. Chapter 21

**Rifiuto: Non Mirena**

 **Thanks to MusicWithinMe for reviewing 20.**

He found her in the lobby, pacing back and forth, kicking out at anything within reach. Officers, assistants and the like made sure to steer clear of her, or quickly turn around if they made it to the lobby before being warned. They all knew of the power the McGee siblings- and the _Da_ vid sisters- held in the agency; Tim was one of the most highly respected officers in Mossad. He had quickly risen through the ranks, becoming one of Eli's top operatives, and had churned out an impressive resume involving everything from field work to interrogation and encryption.

Having first been partnered with Malachi ben-Gidon, the two agents had gotten to be good friends, but once Ziva joined the agency, she'd quickly asked her father if she could take Malachi's place as Tim's partner- a trial run had taken place, and while the two had been fairly touchy-feeley in their off-time, when they were on case or in the middle of an operation, they managed to keep their relationship out of the business at hand- they remained professional and courteous in the face of whatever operation or case they were currently working, something Eli made sure to keep close tabs on.

Sarah, on the other hand, spent the majority of her time at Mossad working closely with the Political Action and Liaison Department, which worked with their allies' intelligence services. Though she was also field operative like both her brother and Ziva, Sarah preferred being 'behind the curtain' as opposed to 'out on the stage' as the siblings referred to it. She had feared for her brother when he joined the _Kidon_ upon Eli's request, and had even made him promise to contact her to let her know he was okay- insisting on the use of one simple word to inform her that he was alive and- if not well- then okay, while on mission. That simple word had morphed into a whole host of 'safe words' for the siblings, which they used often when confronted with situations they couldn't handle, work-related or otherwise; the severity of the situation was determined by the word.

And, ironically, their safe words were anything but Israeli. They were all- in some form or another- Irish, or related to an even that had taken place in their homeland.

Tim watched her pace, running through list of their safe words in his head.

 _Sunday? No, tha's for mild situations... um... Potato?_ _No, ironically, tha' wou'd mean she's fairl' calm... H? Bobby Sands? Na, both those are more 'long th' lines o' jus' startin' t' panic._ _This... 'tis nothin' 'jus' startin' 'bout 'er reaction..._ _Ulster, maybe? Enniskillen?_

He sighed. "Titanic?"

Sarah's head snapped up, and she turned to find her brother leaning against the nearby wall, hands in his pockets, ankles crossed, one eyebrow raised, waiting. She narrowed her eyes. " _Aye, Titanic! God, Timmy, di' ye ev'n 'ave t' ask?_ "

A moment passed, before he pushed himself away from the wall, going to his sister and cutting her off mid-pace. He took her shoulders, shaking her gently. " _Talk t'_ me, Sarah. We can _'lways_ talk, _ye_ know _tha'_." The younger woman sighed, reaching up and rubbing her forehead before resting her hands on his arms.

 _"Those people are no' our par'nts, Timmy! They... if anythin'... they're impost'rs... they don' know anythin' 'bout us, or... or our chil'hoods or... our school years or... or 'ow you an' Ziva go' t'geth'r an'... an' they... they send us away, cast us ou' o' Ir'land t' Isr'el... t'... t' be rais'd by a new fam'ly... strang'rs... fifteen years, Timmy... they lef' us f'r fifteen years... forc'd us t' be rais'd in Isr'el, an' now... now they dare come 'ere an'... an' demand we go back wit' them... 'ow can they d' this, Tim?"_ She choked on a sob. _"Wha' 'bout Mossad? An' Tali an' Ari an' Abba an' Ima an Ziva... wha' 'bout them? So we jus... up an' 'bandon them like our 'par'nts' did t' us?"_ Sarah sniffled, shaking her head. _"They wou'd nev'r forgive us... they... d' they no' und'rstan' tha' we 'ave a 'ome here? A fam'ly? Lives? "'ow d' they no' und'rstan' tha'?"_

She'd become so upset, and her accent so think that anyone else would have a hard time understanding her, but Tim did. He wrapped his sister in a hug, rubbing her back and swaying gently with her, pressing a kiss to her head. She clung to him, the prospect of leaving the only home they had ever truly known, the family they considered theirs-

Tim looked up, to see Ziva and Tali skid to a stop feet from them. Tali swallowed, breaking the silence. _"Ima_ and _Abba_... they are talking to your... your parents now. Trying to get them to see reason."

Something in Tim's gaze sparked. "Those people are _no'_ our _par'nts._ They may _'ave_ given birth _t'_ us, bu' they are _no'_ our _par'nts_. _An'_ they _'ave_ no _righ' t'_ come _'ere an'_ start _actin'_ like they are." He turned back to Sarah, who buried her face in his chest. "Shh, hush, Sarah. I've _go' ye_."

Ziva swallowed thickly. She'd listened to her parents argue with Mr. and Mrs. McGee, explaining how they'd looked after Tim and Sarah, how the two had done well and grown to be good, hardworking, respectable adults, and how they couldn't force their children to come back to Ireland, that it was ultimately Tim and Sarah's decision on whether they wanted to leave Israel or not. Eventually,the arguing had become so heated, Tali had tugged her from the room, seeing the first signs of her sister shutting down. Though they could still faintly hear the argument taking place, Ziva kept her eyes trained on the siblings, wanting nothing more than to be home in their bed, wrapped tightly in Tim's arms.


	22. Chapter 22

**Rifiuto: Non Mirena**

 **Thanks to MusicWithinMe, None and none for reviewing 21, Reader aka Sun Samurai for reviewing 20 and 21.**

Eventually, Sarah managed to calm. She slid her hands into the pocket of her brother's jeans, wrapping her fingers around something and pulling it out. She studied it for a moment, briefly confused, before she remembered what it was.

Her brother's rosary.

After a moment, she pulled her own rosary from her pocket, studying them. They had been used in their first Communions, but neither she nor Tim had ever had any interest in them after that, so Kathleen had put them away until they were ready to use them. And then their mother had slipped them into the small leather pouches they'd given them before they left for Israel- of course, neither had been told that the rosaries had belonged to their great-great grandparents.

Both fell from her hand, glass beads shattering and crosses breaking as they hit the tile; in some strange sense, it was as though the breaking rosaries signified the final tie to their parents, and to the land of their birth. Both had lived so long in Israel, had made such deep connections and ties to this different... this Holy Land... that they no longer identified with the Irish running in their blood. From Tim and Sarah's point of view at that moment, they were both completely and absolutely, irreversibly, Israeli.

They had come to Israel frightened children, and grown into strong, responsible adults. But up until now, they had never considered-

"Naturalization."

"What?" Sarah pulled away, looking up at her brother.

"Naturalization! Sarah!" He took her shoulders, holding her away from him as he gently shook her. "We should apply for citizenship."

His sister sniffled. "I don'-"

"Citizenship, Sarah! We should apply for citizenship."

"Here? In _Isr'el_?" It wasn't connecting, this plan her brother was concocting. Sarah had always been able to figure out what her brother was planning and oftentimes eagerly joined in, but this was one plan she was having trouble following.

 _"Yes!"_ He sighed. "After _Isr'el_ became a state in forty- _eigh'_ , the parliament created two laws _t'_ deal with the 'immigration problem', so _t'_ speak- citizenship _an'_ _nat'ralization_. The Law _o'_ Return grants Jews, those of Jewish ancestry _an'_ their spouses the rights _t'_ return _t' Isr'e_ l _an'_ gain their _cit'zenship_ through the Israeli state. Now, we can't gain _cit'zenship_ through the Law _o'_ Return for _obvious_ reasons- for one, we're Catholics _an' f'r 'nother_ , we were born in _Ir'land_ \- _but_ we can apply for _nat'ralization_."

"Um... actually..." But neither sibling heard Ziva.

" _Th' oth'r_ one is _applyin' f'r nat'ralization_ \- the Israeli Nationality Law. It naturalized all _o'_ Palestine, _an'_ those _tha' 'ad_ been in _Isr'el_ legally between forty- _eigh' an'_ fifty-two."

"I _don' und'rstan'_ , Timmy. _Ye're no' makin'_ sense."

He sighed, rolling his eyes quickly. " _Accordin' t'_ the law, _natralization's_ available _t'_ all immigrants here _bef're Isr'el's_ creation, _t'_ those who came _aft'_ statehood, _an'_ those who _dinna_ come as immigrants, but _'ave_ since expressed a _desire_ _t' settle._ Sarah! _Are ye list'nin' t' me?"_

Her green eyes blinked. "Where did _ye_ learn all _tha'_? A book?"

Her brother glared at her. " _Aye,_ a book. _Ye_ know me, Sarah, when I'm _no' workin'_ or _torturin'_ Zivaleh, I'm _readin'. Bu' tha's b'sides th' poin'._ _Look_ , I've been _studyin'_ Jewish law, _an' accordin' t'_ it, an _applican' mus'_ be over _eig'teen, 'ave_ resided in _Isr'el_ three _ou' o'_ five years, _'ave_ some knowledge _o' 'ebrew_ , intend _t'_ settle or be _sett'ed_ permanently, _an' eith'r_ renounce their prior _national'ty_ or demonstrate ability _t'_ renounce their _national'ty aft' becomin_ ' an _Isr'eli_ citizen."

Sarah studied him, everything soaking in. "So... we _wou'd_... meet _th'_..."

He nodded. "We're both _ov'r eig'teen_ , we _don' jus' 'ave knowledge_ _o' 'ebrew_ \- Sarah, we're _fluent_ in it; we _sett'ed_ here when _th' Da_ vids took us in, _an'_ I _don'_ know _'bout_ you, _bu'_ I _wou'dn't_ mind _renouncin'_ _me_ prior _national'ty_."

" _Bu'... wha'_ if we _canna-_ " She swallowed. "If _ye_ marry Ziva, you will be a citizen by-"

Her brother sighed, reaching up to brush a wayward strand out of her eyes. "They discontinued _tha'_ practice in ninety-nine, Sarah." Tim sniffed derisively. "No, I think _nat'rualization'll_ be our _bes'_ bet. _B'sides, aft' ev'rythin'_ we've done _f'r_ Mossad-"

" _'ow_ can they say no." Sarah finished, giving her brother a small smile- the first smile he'd seen from her since their parents had shown up.

"Um..." The pair turned to the sisters; Tali had her hands buried in the pockets of her jacket and Ziva was fidgeting- something she hardly ever did. "The... the Law of Return was amended in nineteen-seventy. It now includes... Judaism conversions."

"Conversions?" Sarah asked. "Like... _convertin'_ from a Catholic _t'_ a Protestant?" Her brother blanched; though they'd spent _only_ their early childhoods in Ireland, the McGee siblings were steeped in the Catholic faith. While they tolerated all religions, the mention of their opposing Irish neighbors still sent both scurrying back with crosses raised. They, like so many born into Trouble-torn Belfast, had been taught and influenced early on in the views in regards to their Protestant neighbors. In fact, one of Tim's earliest memories involved being taught 'Ireland belongs to the Irish, not the British; Ireland belongs to the Catholic, not the Protestant', in primary school. "Sorry, Timmy."

"Like converting from Catholic to Judaism." Tali clarified. "But it has to be done outside of the state of Israel. A civil marriage is the same way."

Tim and Sarah shared a glance. "So... we _cou'd... conv'rt_." He nodded, meeting Ziva's gaze. She shook her head; she loved Tim, but the last thing she wanted was for him to change- especially something as important as his religion. Catholicism made him who he was, had been partially responsible for shaping him into the man she loved, and for him to cast it aside-

For some unknown reason, she feared for him. For both him and Sarah.


	23. Chapter 23

**Rifiuto: Non Mirena**

 **Thanks to Reader aka Sun Samurai for reviewing 22.**

"Zivaleh? _Ani lo mevina."_

"Understand what, Tali?"

"Tim and Sarah have lived in Israel for fifteen years, and yet, in _all_ that time, they never considered converting or gaining citizenship until now. Why is that?"

Ziva sighed, sipping her coffee. Tali, always the voice of reason among the four, had suggested they get coffee down in the small cafe on the lower floor of the agency. Now, she sat across from her sister; Tim and Sarah were across the cafe, deep in conversation with Malachi and another officer, Michael Rivkin. A moment p=assed, as Ziva craned her neck, making sure they were still preoccupied. "I do not know. But Catholicism... it is such a part of them... I could not bear to see them change from it..." She swallowed. "I have a bad feeling about this, Tali."

"You have a bad feeling about everything in regards to Tim and Sarah since their 'parents' showed up."

"Can you blame me?" Her younger sister sighed, wrapping her hands around her mug.

"No. But do you not think that maybe you are worrying over nothing? They seem pretty set on it."

"It just... seems to me that they are rushing into this."

"Ziv-"

"I do not want them to give up the one thing that truly makes them... them. Catholicism is that thing, Tali, and if they give that up, then they will be just like everyone else in Israel." Tali snorted, lifting her cup.

"Tim and _Sarit_ could not be like everyone else in Israel if they _tried_." She muttered, taking a sip. "They stand out far too much. In everything."

Her sister sighed, watching as Sarah laughed at something Michael said. Both David sisters knew of Michael Rivkin; he was one of the best agents on Mossad, though he had a bit of a drinking problem- as for Malachi, the man was down to earth and quiet, and it was clear that he had a bit of a thing for Sarah. But it was also clear that Eli was watching the older agent closely; the last thing he wanted was for Sarah to get hurt. As for Tim, Ziva had made him promise to not jump down Sarah's throat when she expressed interest in someone. She deserved happiness too, and if she could find that with Malachi-

"I just... I love Tim too much to watch him change for a faith he does not believe in."

Tali met her sister's gaze. "Religion is religion, no matter what a person calls it. In the end, it is God who is worshiped, it does not matter what He is called as long as it is His name we worship. Why should it matter what religion Tim and Sarit are, as long as they worship God?" Ziva sighed.

"They have _traditions,_ Tali-"

" _We_ have traditions, Zivaleh. Just because our traditions are slightly different does not mean anything. We just choose to worship in another way."

"You do not understand." Tali raised an eyebrow and her sister had the decency to duck her head briefly. "I have watched as Tim has whispered his prayers and... run his fingers over the beads of his rosary before bed... they have put me to sleep, that clicking. It is beautiful, this religion of theirs, Tali. Different than ours, with different prayers and rituals, yes, but no less beautiful. I... I would hate to see them lose it."

Her sister reached over, taking her hand. "Look, they made that decision when they were both upset and angry; they have both calmed down now, so they should be able to think rationally-"

"Who _shou'd_ be _thinkin' rat'onally_?" Both sisters looked up as Tim and Sarah joined them. He made his way to Ziva, slipping his arms around her shoulders and quickly squeezing, pressing a kiss to her head. She looked up at him, stealing a soft kiss before meeting Tali's gaze.

"Your parents."

Tim pulled away, and Sarah's gaze darkened. "They are _no'_ our parents." Sarah replied, glancing at her brother. "Parents do _no'_ abandon their _chil'ren."_

Eventually, they left the cafe, heading up to Eli's office, only to find their parents and the McGees making their way towards them. Ziva instantly grabbed Tim's hand, squeezing. He glanced at her, confused, and she just shook her head, leaning into him. "There you all are. We need to talk to you." Tim and Sarah shared a glance, but neither followed the older adults back to his office. Realizing they weren't going to budge, Eli sighed, going to them. "Rivka and I need to apologize to both of you. We did not mean to lay such a declaration as this at your feet without forewarning you. We were wrong." The pair shared a glance, but kept quiet. "Now, in regards to that, we have... talked with your parents-"

"They are _not_ our parents, _Abba_." Tim cut in. Kathleen winced. "They may have created us and brought us into this world, but that is it. They're nothing more than our _conceivers_ \- the people who created us. They were never our parents. _An'_ they _canna jus'_ show up _an'_ expect _t' star' actin'_ like our _par'nts_ now!"

" _'ey!_ We _'ave always_ been _yer_ parents! _Always!_ Distance _an'_ time do _no'_ change _tha'_ , Timothy!"

 _"Johnathan!"_ Kathleen glared at her husband before going to her son. She stopped beside him, reaching out to take his hand, but then decided against it. A soft sigh escaped her throat, and after a moment, she met his gaze. "Look, I _kno' tha'_ we messed up. An' we _admi'_ it." Her son snorted derisively, rolling his eyes.

" _Wha'_ is _wit' th'_ eyes, young man?" Tim turned to glare at his father.

"You are _no'_ my father. We may share blood, _bu' tha's_ all."

Rivka glanced between the trio, cutting in before John could respond. She turned to the other couple. "Please, come over for dinner." Quickly, she lifted a hand, silencing any protests from either Tim or Sarah. "I insist."


	24. Chapter 24

**Rifiuto: Non Mirena**

 **Thanks to MusicWithinMe and Reader aka Sun Samurai for reviewing 23.**

" _Ima_ wants us over for dinner in an hour." Tim glanced up from his book. Stretched out on the bed, head in his hand, Salman Rushdie's _Midnight's Children_ open before him. "Your... _conceivers_ are going to be there."

" _'ow_ nice _f'r_ them." He turned a page. "You can go; I'm _no' 'ungry_."

Ziva sighed, pushing herself away from the door and taking a seat on the bed. "Tim, _please_. I know you are hurt, and you are angry and you are... _conflicted_ and worried and... but you _need_ to go."

His gaze shot back up her. "I'm not conflicted." She raised an eyebrow.

"No?"

He thought a moment, before shaking his head. "Not at all. I know exactly what I want and where I want to be and where I want my life to go. I know who I am and who I want to spend the rest of my life with, and who I want in that life- and I do _no_ ' want the McGees in that life."

She winced; though it deeply touched her parents that the siblings thought of themselves as _Da_ vids, there was that small part of Ziva that loved Tim's Irish heritage. And despite everything that had gone on with the McGees in the last few hours, they were still Tim and Sarah's parents; they had still raised them from birth for those few childhood years- no matter how short they were. "Tim, _please_. Do not make me beg." She stretched out beside him, resting her head on her arm, lower lip pouting.

But all he did was glance at her and turn another page in his book. "I'm not going. Tell _Abba_ and _Ima tha'_ I'm sorry."

His girlfriend groaned, getting up. She quickly grabbed her cell and slipped out of the room, dialing a number. A few minutes passed as she spoke rapidly in Hebrew, not that Tim was paying any attention, and then came back in, holding the phone out. "She wants to talk to you." He glanced up at her before taking the phone.

 _"'ello?"_ Green eyes darted up to meet brown; they soon began to widen. _"Bu' Ima-"_ Ziva joined him on the bed, stretching out and propping herself up on her elbow. " _Ima_ , I'm really not-" Rivka interrupted him. "It's not against you, _Ima_ , I just don't-" He held the phone briefly away from his ear; Ziva even winced. "I just do not want to have to sit across from them and play ni- well, no, _bu'... bu' Ima_ -" He sighed, glancing at Ziva. "No, _Ima... ken, Ima,_ I... I guess I do..." Ziva covered her mouth, stifling a giggle. "We'll be there soon, _Ima_." After ending the call, Tim slowly hung up, handing the phone back to her. She raised an eyebrow, waiting. "I'll go get dressed."

Thirty minutes later, Tali opened the door, smiling softly at the couple. At nineteen, Tali still lived at home, as did Sarah, who at twenty, wasn't fully prepared to be out on her own just yet. Not that either Eli or Rivka minded; they loved having the girls home, especially with Ari, Tim and Ziva out of the house. Though both Tim and Ziva often came over for dinner, they now had their own lives. "Thank God." She quickly moved out of the way; already, Tim and Ziva could see that the situation was tense-

Sarah sat on the sofa, back ramrod straight, arms around her knees. She watched in silence as Eli and John talked softly, before her gaze shifted, and she immediately got up, rushing to her brother. Tim enveloped her in his arms, squeezing gently. " _'twas 'fraid_ you'd _nev'r ge' 'ere_."

"He almost did not come." Ziva replied, catching Sarah's gaze.

 _"So you would have left me here to deal with them myself!"_ She whispered, shoving him lightly. Tim met her gaze.

"Hey, I came, didn't I?"

"Only after I called _Ima_ and she threatened him." Ziva filled in. Sarah glared at her brother, opening her mouth to speak when Tali interrupted them.

"Um... can we please keep the arguing to a minimum?" The other three turned to the younger girl.

"Since when did you become Miss Worrywand?" The McGee siblings shared a glance.

"It's 'wart,' Ziva. The phrase is 'worrywart.'"

She waved it away. " _Ken_ , that too."

"I am not- Look, _Ima_ just wants this dinner to go well. That means no fighting."

Dinner was tense. Or, to be fair, it started out tense, and over the next couple hours, increased in intensity. Tim and Ziva shared a glance; silently, she reached beneath the table, sliding a hand over his thigh. "Are you not going to say Grace?"

The siblings shared a glance.

Grace.

Just one of the many traditions they'd held onto over their years of living in Israel- a tradition that tied them to their emerald homeland; a tradition that had been a part of the _Da_ vids' lives as much as it had been a part of theirs. And now, to possibly cast that tradition aside-

"I _don'_ think we're going _t'_ say Grace..." Sarah glanced at Rivka, before turning back to Kathleen. " _Mams_." Tim winced, glancing at the McGees.

 _"Please, Tim."_ He glanced at Ziva, who gently squeezed his thigh. She gave him a soft, pleading look; clearly, this was important to her, though he had no idea why. After a moment, he glanced at Sarah.

The soft, whispered prayer relaxed everyone at the table, and the Davids watched as Tim and Sarah slowly crossed themselves, though the simple 'Amen' didn't cross either's lips. Once things seemed to settle down, silence fell. However, Kathleen didn't let it stay for long.

"Thank _ye, f'r takin'_ care _o'_ our kids _f'r_ us."

Rivka gave her a small smile. "It was no trouble. Timothy and Sarah have become..." She glanced the siblings. "part of the family."


	25. Chapter 25

**Rifiuto: Non Mirena**

 _"Tha's wond'rful."_ Sarah and her brother watched their mother- no, they couldn't look at her that way; she hadn't been a mother. _Rivka_ had been more of a mother to them than Kathleen had. She glanced at her brother; Tim shared a look with Ziva, reaching down beneath the table to squeeze the Israeli's hand. At the other end of the table, Eli and John were engaged in soft conversation, and Tali was picking at her _musht_ with vigorous interest, anything to keep herself out of the awkward tension that had taken over half the table.

She glanced once more at her brother, who leaned close to whisper softly in Ziva's ear; the Israeli smiled softly, nodding. If he wasn't going to bring it up, then-

Taking a deep breath, Sarah turned back to Kathleen and Rivka. "Timmy and I are considering converting."

The silence was defining.

" _Wha'_ did _ye_ say, Sarah?"

The girl turned to her mother. "Timmy and I are considering converting to Judaism." She licked her lips, glancing at her brother, who steadily met her gaze across the table. "Actually, no, we aren't considering it. We're _going_ to convert."

Glances were cast about the table, Ziva dug her nails into Tim's thigh and Tali suddenly found the appetite to finish her fish.

"May I be excused, _Ima_?" Without waiting for a response, Tali stood, gathering her plate-

"Sit down, Talia." She didn't move. _"Sit. Down."_

Mouth shut, Tali did as told, dropping quickly back into her chair and returning her plate to the table; it clunked against the clothed table, the cutlery clicking together. She sighed, rubbing her forehead before resting her elbows on the table and turning her attention to her empty plate.

Some _Shabbat_ dinner this was turning out to be.

No one spoke for several minutes; Ziva continued to dig her nails into the Tim's thigh until he had to bite the inside of his cheek to keep from yelling at her. Kathleen and Rivka locked gazes as John and Eli shared a glance; meanwhile, Sarah held her head high, daring the four to challenge her. It suddenly seemed, that in that one moment, Sarah's entire life had been leading up to this, and damn it, she was proud of it. Finally, John spoke, ending the stifling silence.

" _Conv'rt? T'_... Ju..."

" _Judaism_." Sarah replied. "It is the religion that the _Da_ vids practice. That all the Jews in Israel and Palestine practice. _Bu'_ you _wou'dn't_ know _tha', b'cause_ you _nev'r_ _both'red t'_ come _t' Isr'el_. In _th'_ fifteen years Timmy _an'_ I have been here, you _nev'r both'red_ once to come _an'_ visit, or check up on us, make sure we were okay. _No'_ once. It's been _fifteen years, Da_."

" _Ye don'_ speak _t' yer fath'r_ like _tha'_ , Sarah Aileen. _'ave_ a _littl' r'spect f'r yer eld'rs._ " The girl's head snapped towards her mother at the softly-spoken sentence, but it was her brother that spoke up this time.

" _Respect?_ " Tim spit the word out, as though it were poison. "You _wan'_ us _t'_ show respect to you- who _nev'r both'red t'_ come visit while we were _growin'_ up. A few phone calls _an'_ some _lett'rs_ were all _th' commun'cation_ we _go'_ from you. Very _littl' respect_ was given _t'_ us, _Mams_." He shook his head. "You know, I've no idea _o' th'_ future, _bu'_ I can see _th'_ _past_ quite well. _An'_ the present, if _th'_ weather's clear."

Kathleen glanced at Sarah, who kept quiet. "I don'-"

Tim stood, throwing his napkin down on the table, yanking his hand out of Ziva's. He glanced at both John and Kathleen, his words biting with every syllable. "It means, _Mams,_ " He ground out mockingly, " _tha'_ the east is our future, and the _west_ is our past. We're _no' goin'_ back _t' Ir'land_ with you. Not now, not _ev'r_."

Without another word, he turned, stalking out of the house, his words ringing loud and clear in the dining room.

A moment passed, as the sisters shared a glance; in that time, Sarah quickly left the table, slamming the front door behind her, sending Kathleen jumping. Without a word, Ziva stood, rushing after the McGee siblings, determined to calm both down, and after a moment of tense silence, Tali unfolded her arms from the table and got up, slipping out of the house with the ease of a ghost passing through walls; the last sign of her was the soft click as she shut the front door.

Slowly, the four adults shared a glance. It was the two kids they shared between them that had brought about this... unfortunate dinner, not that anyone dared admit it. Eventually, Rivka spoke. "Well, this is one _Shabbat_ dinner I will not soon forget." She then stood, starting to clear the plates as John stood to help her. As they disappeared into the kitchen, Eli turned to Kathleen, who hadn't moved since Tim had stormed out.

She seemed torn, confused by the man who'd sat across from her, relating him to the little boy she'd kissed goodbye at the airport that day. It was clear, that the anguish in her face was due to the years that had passed, to her scant role in raising her children, to her missing out on their childhood and teenage years. Though, unlike John, who'd actually expressed regret to the Mossad director in regards to his role in abandoning his children- it had startled Eli to hear the man use such painful words in regards to his kids, even though they were true- Kathleen had yet to say a word or utter a phrase that even remotely sounded along the lines of 'I'm sorry.'

If anything, the woman's stubborn Irish pride had taken hold, and she was refusing to accept that her children were fully grown- still seeing those two, innocent babes she'd given birth too- and set to make their own way in the world, in a country that had quickly become their home, with a family that had accepted them from the moment they arrived in Tel Aviv. Eli sighed. Didn't she see all the good the last fifteen years in Israel had done for her kids? The financial security they'd achieved, the independence? And, in Tim's case, the growing romance he'd gotten tangled up in with Ziva?

After a moment, Eli cleared his throat. Kathleen slowly turned to him. He stood, beckoning her to follow. "I need to show you something, Mrs. McGee."


	26. Chapter 26

**Rifiuto: Non Mirena**

 **Thanks to Reader aka Sun Samurai for reviewing 24 and 25.**

"I could _kill her_ , I could _just_ -"

Ziva stopped, watching as Tim struck out, kicking at the fence in anger. Silently, she made her way towards him, reaching out and managing to grab his wrist before he broke his fingers punching the streetlight. He glanced at her, breathing heavy. Without a word, Ziva slipped herself into his arms; sliding her hands up to cradle his face, thumbs gently stroking his cheeks as she rested her forehead to his. "Shh... hush, Tim. Please, calm. You are going to make yourself sick."

He closed his eyes, sliding his arms around her waist and pulling her closer. " _I'ma_... sorry..."

"Do not apologize, you have nothing to be sorry for. You are angry, both you and _Sarit_. It is understandable. You both look at what they have done as abandonment, even though it was with your best interest at heart-"

"They _did_ _abandon us, Ziva_." Tim ground out, teeth clenched. She swallowed, and he sighed, sliding a hand up her back. " _I'ma_ sorry, Zivaleh. I _dinna_ mean-"

But she rested a finger to his lips. She shook her head. "Shh." Her arms went around his neck, and she held him close, tangling a hand in his hair and gently scratching her nails along the bottom of his hairline. They met in a soft kiss, before he buried his face in her shoulder, tightening his hold on her. One of Rivka's soft Hebrew lullabies began to flow from her lips, and she gently swayed with him, hoping the movement would help calm her boyfriend's frantic heart.

It was in this position that Sarah and Tali found them; the two younger women shared a glance, before joining their siblings. Tim pulled away, reaching out to take Sarah's hand. The woman squeezed, moving close to lean into his side. He brushed a soft kiss to her head, sighing. "I'm not going back in there."

"Tim-"

He shook his head, pulling away from his sister. _"No, Ziva!"_ She sighed. "Look, I love you, but I'm not going to go back in there and play nice with those two..." He sighed, thinking. "Those two child abandoners! Because that is what they did! They abandoned us! They sent us to Israel without any explanation, without any promise to send for us or bring us back, and now they suddenly show up fifteen years later, expecting us to just come back with them, to a country we don't remember, to a home we didn't live in very long, with a couple we only vaguely know as our 'parents.' They came down here, expecting us to follow them like the good obedient sheep we're supposed to be. Well I'm sorry, but _I'm not going_! I have a good life here, both Sarah and I do, and they are not going to take that away from us!"

"Tim?" Tali moved towards him, reaching out and taking his hand. "Maybe you are overreacting, just a little?"

 _"God, Tali, who's side are ye on?"_ Sarah demanded. Tali started.

"I... I am on neither side, _Sarit_. I just... I do not think that either of you are thinking with your minds. You are running on your hearts, not your heads."

"Use our heads, is _tha' wha' ye wan'_ us _t'_ do, Tali?" Tim asked, and slowly, she nodded.

"I just... I think you would be safer, if you both calmed down and listened to what they had to say before making any rash decisions. You do not know what it is like, converting- and you will be converting to Judaism; there are infinite things you can and cannot do, such as eat pork-" Sarah scoffed, shaking her head, and after a moment, Tali sighed, rubbing her forehead. Why did she always have to take on the role of peacekeeper? "Look, all I am saying is that you are both running on your tempers; you both have a right to be angry, _ken_ , but making any rash decisions while you are angry is only going to cause trouble later on. You _know_ what _Abba_ says in regards to emotion-"

 _"Esh ktanah nishrafah harbey meod tiras_." Ziva cut in. Her sister nodded.

"Right. 'A little fire burns up a great deal of corn.'"

"I've never understood that saying." Sarah replied, glancing at her brother, who shrugged.

"It loses something in translation." Tali tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. "But I think what it means, in a sense, is to never let your emotions cloud your judgement, because once that happens, you cannot make decisions properly." The McGee siblings shared a glance. "At least _allow_ them to explain, and then make your decision. Please?"

A moment passed, as Tim and Sarah shared a glance; but before Sarah could reply with some snarky comeback, her brother cut in. "Fine. We'll listen."

 _"Tim!"_ He met his sister's gaze as she rounded on him. "You _canna be_ -"

"Tali's right, Sarah. We can listen _t'_ them. Least we can do before we go ahead _wit'_ it." Ziva winced. She only hoped that listening to the McGees would make Tim and Sarah see how important their faith was to them, and see how much she and everyone else in the family, loved it. A soft sigh escaped her throat, and she held out a hand to Tim; a moment passed before he took it, lacing their fingers and squeezing gently. Tali slid her arm through Sarah's, tugging her close.

"Will you try to relax, _Sarit_? Give them a chance to explain, and _then_ Ziva and I will allow you to kill them, okay?" Once the two disappeared into the house, Ziva turned to her boyfriend.

"You going to be okay, Tim?" He shrugged.

"I can't just go in there and listen to them, Zivaleh. I mean... they'll probably be lying anyway. How do Sarah and I know if anything that comes out of their mouths is the truth?"

She went to him, reaching up and catching his chin. "You do not. But if they are lying, you listen, like Tali said. You do not have to believe them."

"How do you know? This isn't your entire life that's being uprooted."

"You are right, it is not." Slowly, Ziva slid her arms around his neck, kissing him softly. "But I have faith that you and _Sarit_ will make the right choice." She then pulled away, tugging him towards the door and back into the house.


	27. Chapter 27

**Rifiuto: Non Mirena**

 **Thanks to Reader aka Sun Samurai for reviewing 26.**

Kathleen followed Eli in silence as he led her into the small study. It was small, though it had a uniquely cozy feel to it, and as she took a seat on the sofa, she couldn't help but feel quite calm despite the storm of worry and confusion that filled her. This small study was beautiful-

"This is what I wanted to show you, Mrs. McGee." She looked up as Eli joined her on the sofa, a scrapbook in his grasp. He opened it, and Kathleen's gaze quickly darted over the two exposed pages, before her gaze wandered; she was determined not to like this man, this... Eli David... who, along with his wife and their three children, had taken in her babes fifteen years ago. But soon, she found herself leaning in to look over his shoulder as he turned the pages and began to tell her the stories behind the photographs.

She recognized the school portraits- the same ones she and John had received over the years- and the Polaroid snapshots they'd often received, of Tim and Sarah taking part in various activities; those, coupled with the letters and phone calls, had only vaguely helped to quell the ache of not being able to join them, to hold them in her arms.

If they only knew the truth, the real reason she and John hadn't come to Israel until now, hadn't sent for them in the fifteen years since they'd sent them away...

" _I'ma_ sorry, _wha'_ did _ye_ say, Mr. _Dav'd_?" He gave her a small smile, recognizing the faraway look in Kathleen's eyes.

"My son, Ari, with Timothy and Sarah, at the Sea of Galilee. Ari is a doctor, currently practicing in England at the moment." She leaned close, studying the photograph. In the image, both Tim appeared to be about thirteen, and Sarah about nine. They stood with Ari, both wide-eyed at the body of water before them. "They had never seen water at such a color before, and certainly not in a desert."

"They knew a _lo'_ from church, _bu'_ -"

Eli turned another page, and another, and another, before Kathleen reached out, stopping him. The images before her stole her breath away.

In one photograph, Tim and Sarah were sitting on the porch behind a house, both smiling at the camera, but what surprised her was the attire they were wearing. Tim wore a _kippah_ , the traditional Jewish cap worn to morning prayers, during the Sabbath or on holidays, and he wore the familiar white and blue _tallit-_ the prayer shawl- over his shoulders. Sarah, meanwhile, wore a dark blue _tichel_ , or headscarf worn by primarily married women of Jewish faith. Though she could just make out the rosaries she and John had given them around their necks. Her gaze moved to the next photograph- one of all five children, dressed for prayers, and in the last photographs on the page, were simply ones of Tim and whom Kathleen assumed was Ziva. The girl had, in the first one, her arms around his neck as she sat on the step above him, and in the second, the two shared a kiss, hands clasped.

It was this set of images that worried Kathleen the most, and Eli, ever observant, picked up on the fear in her eyes. He chuckled softly.

"When we first went to synagogue, Timothy and Sarah came with us because we did not want to leave them at home and did not trust them to be left alone with strangers. They did not adjust well, that first year and a half with us." Kathleen lowered her gaze briefly. "We had informed the rabbi of the circumstances and he welcomed the two with open arms, allowing them to sit with us, and he and his wife offered a _kippah_ and a _tichel_ for them each to wear so they would not feel so left out if they wished." He chuckled at the memory.

"Timothy studied the _kippah_ for several minutes before declaring that he did not think God would approve, and did not want to be cast out of Heaven for wearing something 'so strange.'"

"John _an'_ I... we raised _th' chil'ren_ in Clonard Monastery, in Belfast. Timothy _'twas_ an altar boy, _an'_ _'e_ took _'is_ job very seriously. We 'ad very few friends _o'_ Jewish worship. _Nex' t'_ none in our small _corn'r o' Belfas'_."

"Well, the rabbi informed Timothy that God would allow him entrance into Heaven even if he did not wear the _kippah_ , and after several minutes, he asked if 'his God' knew 'our God' to which the rabbi replied that both Gods were one and the same." Eli turned his gaze back to the photographs. "They had just started dating when this photograph was taken." He whispered, gently tapping the image of his daughter and the young man he considered a son-in-law locked in a soft embrace. "Timothy was about... seventeen and Ziva was fifteen-"

"She is two years _young'r_ than _me_ son?" That in and of itself seemed to startle Kathleen even more than the photographs did. Eli nodded. " _An' ye_ approve? Both _o' ye_?"

"Of course we do. Timothy and Ziva are good for each other. They give each other balance. Timothy asked for our permission after Ziva turned fourteen. Rivka and I allowed it, and they have been together ever since." He chuckled softly. "My wife often jokes that they have been tied together by the red string of fate, as the Japanese and Chinese call it. They were destined for each other from the moments of their births, and will one day marry, should Heaven and Earth allow them too."

By the time they left the study, both Tim and Sarah were back in the house, sitting on the sofa; she and Tali were deep in conversation, and Ziva was sitting with her legs in Tim's lap- they were engrossed in a game of Chess, the board balanced on Ziva's bent knees; Rivka and John were conversing softly-

But Kathleen's gaze flitted back to Tim and Ziva as the two shared a soft kiss across the board.

 _No. This canna be happenin'. Timothy is supposed to marry a good Catholic girl! He is Catholic, not Jewish!_ She watched as Tim pulled away, whispering softly to Ziva in what was clearly Hebrew. _What exactly has that girl done to my little boy?_

She didn't hear Eli call to her; slowly, she made her way to the sofa, softly clearing her throat. The four young adults looked up. "We need _t'_ talk." When neither Tim nor Sarah moved, she ground out,

" _Yer fath'r an'_ I need _t'_ talk _t' ye_ both, now." A moment passed before Ziva grabbed the game and lifted her legs off his lap; he and Sarah got up, and Ziva set the game down, reaching up to accept Tim's hand. "Please." The siblings shared a glance, before turning back to the girls and then glancing at Eli and Rivka. A moment passed; Kathleen returned to the study, John glanced at Rivka, and then followed. As Sarah glanced at Rivka, reaching out for her, Kathleen came back into the living room, her voice cutting like a knife. " _Alone_."


	28. Chapter 28

**Rifiuto: Non Mirena**

 **Thanks to MusicWithinMe and Reader aka Sun Samurai for reviewing 27.**

As soon as the door to the study shut behind them, Ziva and Tali were in the hallway, listening intently, both ignoring their parents' scolding. The girls were desperate to hear the conversation-

 _"You canna do tha'!"_

 _"I can an' I will! I'm yer moth'r!"_

 _"Ye're nothin' bu' th' woman who gave birth t' us! Mrs. Dav'd is ten times more a moth'r t' us than ye've ev'r been, Kathleen!"_

The sharpness of flesh met flesh, and silence fell for several minutes before,

 _"How dare you speak t' me like that, Sarah Aileen! I'm yer moth'r!"_

"You _aren't our mother!_ _The only thing ye are is are the woman who brought us into this world!_ _Tha' is it!_ _You stopped being our mother the day you put us on that plane for Israel! Rivka became our moth'r th' day they picked us up at th' airport! She has_ always _been our mother-"_

 _"Ye don' know wha' ye're talkin' 'bout, Timothy!"_

"She will _always_ be our mother!" Both girls quickly scurried back as the door to the study opened and Tim stormed out, Kathleen following; John had managed to calm Sarah down enough that the two were having a fairly decent conversation. Eli turned his attention away from the window, and Rivka was drawn away from the coffee she was fixing in the kitchen.

 _"Timothy, please! We need t' talk-"_

 _"We don't need to talk, Kathleen!"_ He snapped, yanking his arm out of her grasp when she reached for him.

 _"Ye're me son."_

His emerald gaze darkened. "I'm _not your son_. I don't know you, I've never known you- _either of you_!"

Kathleen bit her lip, taking a deep breath. _"Things will be bett'r once we go back t' Ir'land. You will see; 'twill be better when we retu'n t' Belfas'."_

 _"What? What do you mean when we 'return to Belfast'? What the hell are you planning?"_ Tim glanced over Kathleen's shoulder to see his sister come out of the study, John behind her, silent.

 _"Sarah!"_ The Irish beauty looked up as Eli moved away from the window, in case things turned physical. He could see the red mark on the girl's cheek, and his blood boiled. Kathleen turned to the girl; she glanced at John, pleading silently with him to back her up, but he held up his hands in surrender.

" _'tis no'_ our place, Kathleen. We _los' tha' hon'r_ fifteen years ago; _'tis th' Dav'd's_ place now. _No'_ ours."

 _"You canna say tha', John. Ye 'ave waited a decade in tha' jail in Belfas' while th' courts drug their blast'd feet pickin' yer case up, an' now-"_ She held up her arms. "I waited _ten years_ _f'r ye t' ge' ou'_ sos we _cou'd_ come _ge'_ our kids, _an'_ now _ye jus'... wan' t' leave 'em 'ere?_ " But he kept quiet, glancing at Rivka and Eli. Kathleen, refusing to accept her husband's silence as acquiescence, turned back to her son. In an attempt to calm her temper, Kathleen took a deep breath, closing her eyes. "I jus'... want us t' be a family 'gain, Timothy. Th' way we were before we sen' you _an'_ Sarah away." Her son rolled his eyes, and Sarah snorted. "An' we canna do tha' 'ere, in this... God-forsaken land, among these..." She swallowed. "heathens."

Ziva started, glancing at her sister. Had she... heard right? Had Mrs. McGee really just called her family heathens? She moved towards the woman, but Tali got her arm, nodding that Tim was taking care of it.

"Ah... did you just... did you just call our family... _heathens_?"

" _'twas no' thinkin'_ , Timothy-"

 _"No, you weren't!"_ He snapped, stepping towards her. "They are not heathens! No one in Israel is! They are good, kind, hardworking people! How dare you! How dare you call them heathens! Do you know anything about Israel besides what the Bible tells you? Do you watch the news, or are you just stupid?"

 _"Hey! Timothy!_ " Eli grabbed the younger man around the shoulders as he advanced on his birth mother, stopping him in his tracks. The younger man struggled for several minutes, before Eli's deep, calm voice began to penetrate the anger in his mind. "Easy, _ben, easy_." Tim fought against him briefly. "Shh. _Hirgi'a_ , Timothy. You need to _calm down_." Seconds passed, before Eli released him, turning him by the shoulders and pushing him gently words the door. "Go take a walk, Timothy. Clear your head."

The young Mossad agent glanced back at the others, before shaking his head and continuing to the door. Kathleen, unwilling to let him leave without making him understand moved to hurry after him, but Eli stopped her. "He needs to cool off, Mrs. McGee." She glanced at Eli before turning back to her son.

"Tim-"

The younger man in question stopped, turning back to them. "I am only going to say this _once_ , Kathleen. Do you understand? _Once!_ You are _not_ our _mother_! You have _no say_ over our lives! _None!_ We are _not_ your children! We are your _spawn_ , _nothing more!_ " He then turned, grabbing his light jacket and leaving; the door slammed closed behind him. It was silent for several minutes, before Rivka set her cup down and made her way to the door, stopping Ziva in her tracks.

"Let me go, Zivaleh." Slowly, her daughter nodded, and Rivka brushed a kiss to her cheek. She then grabbed her own light jacket and slipped out of the house. She had a feeling that she knew exactly where Tim was headed. The young man wasn't one to head to a bar or aimlessly wander around Tel Aviv when he was upset. No, when Tim was upset, there was only one place that ever seemed to calm his rampant, Irish temper.


	29. Chapter 29

**Rifiuto: Non Mirena**

"I knew I would find you here."

He didn't respond, instead, he kept his gaze locked on the gravel beneath his feet. She made her way towards him, taking a seat on the second swing, gaze going to the stars overhead, before turning her gaze back to the young man. "You know, we have been called many things, we Israelis, but heathens..." She clicked her tongue, with a soft shake of her head, a gentle laugh at the back of her throat. "that is a new one, even for us. Not even the _Palestines_ would call us heathens. But then again, it is all in the perception." Rivka chuckled softly, before leaning forward, attempting to meet his gaze.

The agent continued to study the ground at his feet; the swing he was sitting in swayed back and forth gently, and he sniffled. "Oh, _ahava_." She reached out to brush at the tears she could make out on his cheeks, but he pulled away. With a soft sigh, Rivka returned her hand to the chain, recognizing that Tim didn't want to be touched at the moment- a fact Ziva had learned the hard way a couple years ago.

"I understand, that you are angry, Timothy. You have every right to be. They have hurt you- both you and Sarah, all of us- deeply. You have every single, impressionable right to be angry with them."

Slowly, he lifted his head, meeting her gaze. _"I hate them, Ima! I absolutely hate them!"_

Gently, Rivka reached up, brushing her thumb against his cheek. "Oh, _ahava_ , hate is such a strong, horrible, poisonous word. It is not to be used lightly."

He shook his head, fresh tears glimmering in his emerald eyes. _"Just who do they think they are? Coming here and telling Sarah and I that we need to return to Ireland with them because they say so?"_

"They are your parents, Timothy."

Again, he shook his head, violently this time. _"No! No, they're not! They say they are, but they aren't! They aren't. You are! You and Abba are our parents. They are just..."_ He turned his attention back to the ground, shrugging. _"Just the donors who provided the sperm and the eggs to create us, that's all. They are not our parents."_

A sob escaped his throat, and he hung his head; it was evident the strain Tim was feeling. Silently, Rivka wished that she'd turned down Kathleen's request to come to Israel, that she'd never told Eli, that she'd said something other than 'of course' when Kathleen had called. If only to spare her family such pain.

But she'd never imagined Kathleen's intentions when she'd talked to her that day. Yes, John had explained the situation that night as they cleared the table, and had even expressed massive guilt at such circumstances; he'd explained the reason for such a long period of silence on their part, and had even begun to accept the life his children had created in Israel- he was very surprised to discover they'd never obtained citizenship, though once explained, he understood. But Kathleen...

The woman seemed incapable of accepting that her children were all grown up. She still seemed to look at them as the little ones she'd kissed goodbye at the airport that day, that they were in need of protecting and raising, and she even seemed to resent her and Eli for raising her children in a relatively safe country- something she herself couldn't do at the time. And while Rivka understood where Kathleen was coming from to an extent, she did privately thank the woman for giving her the chance to raise two beautiful, kind children into amazing, gentle adults. Frankly, Rivka was proud that she'd been the one to raise them.

"They will always be your parents, Tim. Just not the ones you remember. The memories of them that you and Sarah possess are ones from childhood, and unfortunately, your mother-"

 _"She is not my mother!"_ He cried, head snapping up to meet Rivka's gaze. " _You are!_ _You_ are my _mother, Ima!_ You have _always_ been my mother and you _will always_ be my _mother_!"

Gently, she reached up, caressing his cheek. To hear such... honest, heartfelt words from the young man she'd helped raise-

"Oh, _ahava_." The swings moved closer, and Tim wrapped his arms around her waist, resting her head against her chest. Rivka held him close, stroking a hand through his hair as she hummed softly. "I remember the first time I held you; it was the night you and Sarah came home with us." She chuckled softly. "You were missing them something terrible, and when I pulled you into my arms, you resisted, at first. But then you got used to me holding you, I think."

She brushed a kiss to his head. "I remember every moment that I have pulled you into my arms over the years, every cause for it, every lullaby. And I will let you in on a tiny secret, Timothy, _ahava_." She whispered conspiratorially. "The first time you willingly curled into my arms is just as precious to me as the first time you called me _Ima_ , if not more so."

A soft lullaby soon fell from her lips and she continued to stroke his hair, rocking gently back and forth. The sobbing got harder, and he tightened his hold on her, needing desperately that connection he'd had with Rivka for the last fifteen years- he longed for it to wash any touch, any look, Kathleen had cast his way. And in that moment, Rivka was his mother, as she had always been his mother, and would always continue to be. "You are my son, Timothy, in every way that matters; in all the matters of importance, save, sadly, that I had not brought you into this world myself." She sighed, closing her eyes briefly, feeling his sobs start to subside. "You are my son, and not just because of your relationship with my Zivaleh."

Slowly, she pulled away, holding his chin firmly in one hand and stroking his hair with the other. She tenderly brushed the tears off his cheeks, a soft smile on her face. "Remember what _Abba_ says in regards to family?" Tim nodded, swallowing thickly as Rivka continued to brush the tears off his cheeks. She gently tapped the bridge of his nose. "Blood does not matter in the importance of family." She brushed a kiss to his forehead. "You and Sarah are family."

He slipped his arms around her, burying his face in her shoulder, his words muffled, but there. _"Ima, Ani ohev otach."_

Rivka chuckled silently, tightening her hold on the young man. She pressed another kiss to his head.

 _"_ Timothy, _gam ani ohevet otxa."_ A sigh escaped her throat. _"Gam ani ohevet otxa."_


	30. Chapter 30

**Rifiuto: Non Mirena**

 **Thanks to MusicWithinMe for reviewing 29 and Reader aka Sun Samurai for reviewing 28 and 29.**

They returned to a semi-calm; tempers had cooled, Eli was having a firm chat with Kathleen while John listened, interjecting occasionally- something Kathleen seemed to see as a betrayal- and Ziva was sitting at the dining room table, chewing on her nails and cleaning her throwing knives in attempt to calm down. The only ones missing were Eli and Rivka's youngest- a mystery that was quickly solved. Sarah had proceeded to lock herself in her room, refusing to come out or speak to anyone; her temper-that famous Irish flame both McGees were known for in Mossad- had yet to cool, and she blatantly and clearly blamed both Eli and Rivka for allowing their birth parents to show up and- in her words, as Eli informed her and Tim as soon as they stepped back into the house- "allow those people to drag her and her brother back to Ireland in blood chains without even bothering to try and stop them." Of course, Sarah's angry and violent outburst- a coffee mug being the only casualty- didn't stop Tali from camping out on the other side of her door, determined to talk some sense into the older girl.

So far, even Tali, the ever-present voice of reason in the volatile family, wasn't making any headway with the stubborn Irish beauty.

Ziva looked up as Tim entered the living room and stood, rushing to him, her arms going around his neck. "I was so worried." Slowly, she felt Tim's arms slide around his waist, before he tightened his hold, burying his face in her hair. The sight of her son sent Kathleen to her feet, and she rushed towards him, opening her mouth to speak, when Rivka stepped in front of her.

"I think we need to leave the kids alone for the night."

Kathleen shook her head. "I need to-"

"You _need_ to leave them be for the evening, Mrs. McGee." Rivka replied, mimicking Kathleen when she tried stepping around her. "This whole day had resulted in too much stress for either Timothy or Sarah to handle, and they do not need more piled on as the evening progresses."

Kathleen met her gaze, green eyes narrowing. _"'ow wou'd ye know? Ye ar'n't their moth'r-"_

Rivka bristled, pulling herself to her full height- a mere five foot four- before rolling her shoulders back and lifting her chin. Silence filled the living room, before Eli stepped towards his wife, hands out and voice soft, as though approaching a deer. "Rivka, please. Not tonight. The last-"

But his wife held out a hand, stopping him. "Do not even _think_ it, Elijah _Da_ vid." He winced; the last time he'd been called by his full name had been the night Ziva had been born, and Rivka had spent the entire six hours of labor blaming him for her current predicament, of which he willingly accepted all the blame, knowing better than to fight with a birthing mother.

Once satisfied, Rivka turned back to her- _Rival. Because that is what she is. And she is using the fact that she is their mother by blood as an attempt to remove them from the only home they have ever known. My children._

"Now you _listen_ to me, Mrs. McGee. I understand, that you gave birth to both Timothy and Sarah, and that that bond is deep, and strong. The same bond is strong between my daughters and I. But I do not appreciate you coming into my country, into my husband's place of employment, into _my home_ , and _demanding_ that we return your children to you. It is disrespectful, arrogant and... and has created a storm of confusion for my entire family."

"Th-"

"I am not _done_." Rivka ground out, holding up a hand to silence the other woman. "Now when you sent Timothy and Sarah to us, you did it with the best of intentions at heart, and my husband and I welcomed them with open arms and hearts, and raised them as our own for the last fifteen years. We had watched the violence in your country escalate and take over, and honestly, if you had asked for them to return to Ireland years ago, I would have told you that it was too dangerous, and that I would rather they stay until it subsided to a relative calm. As it happened, it only got worse, and sadly, while the danger in your country continued to slide into absolute depravity, I am glad you did not ask. They were safer here."

Kathleen opened her mouth, and Rivka cleared her throat. "I am _not. Done. Just. Wait._ " Kathleen snapped her jaw shut. "Now, as I understand it, the violence within Ireland has begun to subside, and your husband has been given a pardon and released from prison for a crime he did not commit, and you have come all the way to Israel to ask for your children back." She swallowed.

"But have you, for one moment, Mrs. McGee, even stopped to consider that those children you sent away fifteen years ago may have grown into adults? That they may have built lives and families and homes and careers within the state of Israel? That they have dedicated their lives to the Israeli people and that they are actually doing good within not only the community, but the country? And that maybe, just maybe, they would wish to remain here in Israel for the rest of their days? That they know nothing of Ireland other than the vague, frayed memories they possess and what they have seen on the news? That they are no longer children of Ireland in any way but blood, and are instead children of Israel? That they have found peace and happiness and love in Israel? Did you even stop to consider that?"

Kathleen shook her head. "They are my-"

" _Ken,_ Mrs. McGee. I understand, that they are your children. By blood. And _blood only_. As of nineteen-eighty-eight, that is your only tie, your only _claim_ to those two. The moment you put them on that plane in the Belfast airport, they became _mine_. And they have been _mine_ for the last _fifteen years_ , and they will _continue_ to be _mine_ for the next fifteen... for the next fifty. For the next one hundred. It does not matter that they share no blood with me; blood does not matter in the importance of family. And those two have been members of my family for fifteen years; I have raised them, I have _taught_ them, I have protected and I have _loved them_ , from the _moment_ they stepped off the terminal at the Tel Aviv airport. I have seen their worst and their best, their failures _and_ their achievements. I have stopped fights between them, comforted them both when they needed it, answered anything they asked to the best of my knowledge, and I have loved them with all my heart and soul. I have raised them- and now you waltz into their perfectly ordered, calm world, and throw it into chaos with demands that my husband and I return them to you, complete strangers, who share nothing more than a connection by blood with them. And you stand there, and expect me to bend to your will, because you come from a 'civilized' world."

Rivka stepped closer, dark eyes narrowing. "Well let me tell you, Mrs. McGee. From what I have seen of your 'world', your country is even less civilized than mine. I am not going to send my-"

"They are my chil-"

" _My children_ to that God-forsaken country of yours where they could get themselves killed simply walking down the street! At least here, they know the enemy they face!" She took a deep breath. "They are my children, and they are staying here."

Kathleen scoffed, shaking her head. "They are _no'_ your children, Mrs. _Dav'd_ , they are mine. I gave birth to them-"

"That is _all you did_!" Rivka cut her off. "You did _nothing_ but give birth to them, the rest belongs to _me_!" She stepped closer, forcing Kathleen to step back. "I fed them, I clothed them, I sheltered them and I loved them. I have given the last fifteen years of my life to ' _your children_ '," Rivka spat the words. "and do you know what I have seen? I have seen them build strong relationships, strong friendships and strong morals and good, level heads. They know the difference from right and wrong and do not judge before receiving the whole story. They are smart, wise beyond their young ages."

"They..."

 _"Are mine."_ Kathleen winced at the danger in Rivka's voice, and she stepped back as the former dancer moved closer; she grabbed Kathleen's chin, forcing the other woman to meet her gaze. "Mine, do you understand? They are _my children_ , _not yours. Not anymore_. You missed your chance fifteen years ago. How _dare_ you come into _my_ _home_ and threaten to take _my children_ back to a country they do not remember, simply to assuage your guilt. If you had wanted them, you should not have sent them away in the first place." She tightened her grip, before cocking her head to the side and gently stroking Kathleen's chin with her fingers. "Poor thing, you simply do not understand the attachment a child has to their mother. You have no children, after all."

Her grip tightened, nails gently digging into Kathleen's skin. "You may have given birth to those children, but _I_ raised them. _I_ love them. _I_ am their mother, not you. They are _my_ babies, _my_ children. Mine. _Not_ yours. _Mine._ They belong to _me_ , and me _alone_. You have _no say_ in their lives. _I_ do. And if I _catch you_ trying to guilt _my children_ into returning to Ireland, then you are going to answer to me. So for as long as you are here, _you_ stay away. Am I _clear_?"

Swallowing thickly, Kathleen nodded. Rivka tightened her grip gently. " _Say it_." Green eyes darted around, but the others kept quiet. "Use your words."

" _Aye_ , I... I _und'rstan'_."

"Good." And abruptly, she let go of the other woman, sending Kathleen stumbling briefly. Hands on her hips, she glanced at John, seeing Sarah and Tali in the hallway. Without a word, Sarah pushed past Kathleen, throwing herself into Rivka's arms. The older woman easily slipped her arms around the girl, one hand holding Sarah's head to her chest. The sight of her daughter in Rivka's arms, chipped off a good chunk of Kathleen's once confident attitude and she swallowed thickly. "Now get out of my house." She watched as Kathleen did as ordered, before stopping her. "And Mrs. McGee?"

The other woman turned back. "Make sure you _stay away_ from _my_ children." She tightened her hold on Sarah, stroking her head. "Because if I catch you harassing my children at all, I will not hesitate to call the police." She turned back as John moved past her. "You will come by tomorrow and explain to them?" He nodded.

"Nine, like we planned. _G'night_ , Mrs. _Dav'd_."

Once they were gone, Rivka turned back to Sarah- before feeling Tim's arms go around her. She reached up, caressing his chin before pressing a kiss to his cheek, tears in her eyes. "I love you both so much. So, _so much_."


	31. Chapter 31

**Rifiuto: Non Mirena**

 **Thanks to MusicWithinMe and Reader aka Sun Samurai for reviewing 30.**

The door to their apartment shut behind them an hour after the debacle at home ended. Ziva shrugged out of her jacket, turning to him as he locked the door and set his coat beside hers on the hooks. "Are you sure you are okay, Tim? You have been awful silent since-" He met her gaze, nodding.

"Fine." He whispered, moving past her towards the bedroom. Ziva sighed, following him, shutting the door softly behind her. She watched him, silently admiring how he looked in just simply pajama bottoms-

She sighed, pushing herself away from the door and going to him. "Talk to me, Tim, _please_." She reached up to caress his cheek, but he grabbed her wrist, pulling her into his arms. His mouth found hers as he searched every nook and cranny, drinking in her taste, his arms sliding around her waist, locking her against him. She pushed him away. "Tim, we need to tal-"

"I _don' wanna_ talk, Zivaleh." He replied, sliding his hands down her body and quickly helping her out of her jeans before lifting her into his arms. Instinctively, she wrapped her legs around his waist as he walked back towards the bed, setting her among the pillows before joining her. He drank deeply from her, hands sliding over her body; he then moved down to kiss the swells of her breasts as he tugged off her now-unbuttoned blouse- Ziva didn't even remember unbuttoning it- and tossed it across the room. The straps of her bra slid down her arms, exposing her shoulders until it was off and her soft breasts were free; he leaned down, being tender as he took each nipple into his mouth until it was taut and firm, tongue flicking over the hardened buds in quick succession. Ziva hissed softly, reaching down to tangle her fingers in his hair.

"Mmm... Tim..."

But he ignored her, moving down over her taut stomach, hands trailing down her body and tugging her black lace panties away from her body. Her pulse began to pound as he kissed his way down her stomach and over the dark curls of her pubic hair. He loved that Ziva wasn't one of those women that shaved- she was a fully grown woman, not a prepubescent girl- and he didn't understand why suddenly women wanted to look like they had before puberty. It was hair, for crying out loud; just because the location was above the area between her legs, didn't make it any different than the wild curls she tried to tame with clips and bobby pins on a daily basis.

His tongue found the tiny so bundle of nerves between her legs, and he flicked over it, eliciting a hiss of pleasure from Ziva. Once more, he flicked his tongue over it, and Ziva moaned softly; when he rolled it gently between his fingers, her hips bucked and she groaned, digging her nails into the pillowcase. "God, Timothy, if you are going to be down there awhile, do not play with me. It is not fair."

He chuckled softly, the first real laugh she'd heard from him all night, and he was soon meeting her gaze again, his lips inches from hers. "So you want me to play down there?" She narrowed her gaze, reaching up to gently smack his cheek.

"You know the rules. As long as I..." She glanced towards his pajama-clad hips. "get to play, too."

He grinned. "You _always_ get to play, Zivaleh." Then, he leaned down, kissing her deeply before pulling away. She moaned softly, completely relaxing as she let her knees rest together; gently, he parted her knees, before leaning down and settling between her thighs. Her heart rate began to speed as he worked, and she dug her nails into the blankets of their bed. It was funny, how... daring she and Tim had gotten to be in bed since that night outside Be'er Sheva.

 _But you are not children anymore. You are both grown adults, with strong, healthy appetites-_

By the time Tim finally backed away and quickly wiped at his mouth, Ziva was still coming down from her high. She shook her head, muttering Hebrew as the last remnants of her orgasm rolled through her body, and as he stretched out beside her, propping himself on his elbow, she met his gaze. "Where the hell did you learn that?" He chuckled.

"I read, Zivaleh." She rolled her eyes, reaching up a hand to thumb his bottom lip.

"You learned that from a book?" He shrugged as she chuckled, stretching. "Do you still want to play or is it my turn now?"

Hours later, after catching their breath, Ziva gently pushed him away, meeting his gaze. "It has to be protected, remember?" He growled softly in agitation as she rested her forehead to his. "I love you, but making a baby tonight is the last thing we need." With a quick kiss, he pulled away, yanking open his nightstand drawer.

"You took your pill this morning?"

She nodded, settling back against the pillows, watching as he tore open the foil and proceeded to put the condom on. Her own hands wandered over her stomach and down between her thighs as she watched, the sight of her boyfriend doing something as simple as putting a condom on sending the pulse between her legs throbbing. "Mm hmm..." She moaned softly, licking her lips-

He grabbed her wrist, tugging her up and capturing her mouth in his. "Happy now?" He whispered, studying her gaze. She grinned, letting her dark gaze wander lower, before allowing her hands to do the same.

"Although," She gently pushed him back, climbing into his lap. His hands slid up her back as she began slowly lowering herself onto him; a hiss of satisfaction escaped her throat once she'd settled on him and slowly worked to get comfortable. "I will be much happier," She groaned softly as she continued to adjust, his thickness filling her completely. She rested her head to his shoulder once she was finally settled; they relaxed, relishing the feel of being together in such an intimate way. If anything, this was Ziva's favorite part of the whole experience of making love with Tim- not necessarily the act itself, but the closeness of their bodies being joined together before they even began to make love. She sighed, completely relaxed against him, one hand coming up to trace patterns over his chest. "I will be much happier on the night we make our first baby."

His arms tightened around her waist, and he 'hmm-ed' softly in response. "I've never seen _Ima_ so angry as she was tonight."

Ziva chuckled, nuzzling into his neck. "She loves you and Sarah. She has raised you; to _Ima_ , you are as much her children as Tali and I are." She then pulled away, meeting his gaze. "Shall we make love, or should I-" Their mouths met in a deep, searching kiss as he tangled a hand in her hair, the other sliding down to squeeze the soft skin of her buttocks firmly, clearly sending her a message that Ziva got loud and clear.


	32. Chapter 32

**Rifiuto: Non Mirena**

 **A/N: Sorry guys, Zani really has no set chapter limit on this one.- Licia**

"How dare- _how_ _dare she_!- come here and just... _assume_ that we are going to hand _our children_ over to her so that she could take them back to Ireland, a country they have not been too or lived in _in years_! You would think-"

Eli rolled his eyes, reaching over and flicking on the light before pushing himself onto his elbow. In the grey area between lamplight and darkness, he could make out his wife, who'd, at one point, gotten out of bed and begun to pace. Sighing softly, Eli checked the time, and screamed internally.

A little after one-thirty.

He had to be at work in little under three and a half hours, for those who worked at Mossad started at five. And with the evening they'd had, he'd be lucky to get to work on time; if Rivka kept this up, he might just have to kill her in order to get some sleep. "She is their mother, Rivka. She has that biological right to see her children."

His wife stopped pacing and turned to him. Something flashed in her dark eyes- something he recoginized all too well, and he mentally slapped himself. The last time that particular brand of smoldering, flames-of-Hell anger had flashed in her eyes, Ziva had been a little over two-and-a-half, and Hasmia had just dumped Ari, then a mere boy of seven, on their doorstep at five that morning, and walked away, leaving her son holding a note that simply read,

 _I cannot do this anymore. Your son, Eli, your problem. Do what you wish with him. I do not care._

Rivka's blood had boiled at the callousness of the note, and promptly taken Ari in as her own, giving the boy a bath and a hot meal and explaining that it wasn't because Hasmia didn't love him, it was that she could not provide for him like she needed to, and that he would be better off with his father and stepmother. The boy hadn't understood, but that Rivka had instantly taken the boy into her arms and heart had been all the child needed. Eli had tracked Hasmia down the next afternoon, demanding an explanation- one she refused to give.

To this day, Hasmia Haswari wouldn't provide the reason for leaving her son with his father, though Rivka suspected that a great deal of her decision had to do with regret. Hasmia, an actress, hadn't wanted a child to burden her, and her fling with Eli- that had happened years before he and Rivka got together- had given her the one thing she resented most. Rivka had adopted Ari as her own, shortly before the boy turned eight, and from that day forward, Ari considered Rivka his mother; much like Tim and Sarah did.

But that long-ago night when she'd opened the door to find her oldest shivering with fear on their doorstep, a hastily written note in his hand, Rivka had reacted the same as she was now. She'd spent a good hour yelling at Eli because she couldn't yell at Hasmia, and then woken in the middle of the night and spent three hours listing all the reason Hasmia needed to be sterilized- though in truth, she'd preferred if the woman was shot.

However, in the end, things had turned out as they were supposed to; Ari was permanently Rivka's upon approval of his adoption, and the boy had adjusted well to Rivka's loving nature and gentle touch; the beautiful man now working in London to save lives was proof of that. Just as all the good Sarah and Tim were doing within Mossad was proof-

"And she just expects- _expects_ , because she gave birth to them- to be able to waltz right into _my_ house and steal _my_ children out from under my eyes. Well, let me tell you, she has another thing coming, because if I catch her _anywhere near my children,_ I-"

"Rivka. _Rivka_!" His wife turned to him, to find him sitting up, arms resting on his knees, head in his hands. "I understand that you are upset, my love; I am, too. But it is almost two in the morning, and I have to be at work at five. So please, come back to bed." A moment passed before his wife joined him, allowing him to slip the covers over her before she snuggled into his embrace. Silence filled the room for several minutes, and Eli relaxed, letting sleep once more take hold.

"I was so scared, Eli."

His dark eyes snapped open, and he pulled away, meeting his wife's eyes in the dark. "Of what, my love?"

She swallowed, reaching out to play with the fabric of his shirt. "That... that Timothy and Sarah would... would remember them and want... to go back. To Ireland."

"Oh, Rivka, love... that is ridiculous. They have spent the last fifteen years of their lives here, what could possibly be in Ireland that would send them back?"

"Their-" She stopped, refusing to use such a term for the McGees. As far as Rivka was concerned, the only parents Tim and Sarah had, were her and Eli.

As it should have been all along.

Her husband sighed. "They don't remember them, not really. And the memories they do possess are ones barely recalled and faded with time. They have no attachment to John and Kathleen except through blood. And no matter what Kathleen thinks, she cannot force Timothy and Sarah to remember them, to remember Ireland or love them the way they love us. It does not work that way." He pulled his wife back into his arms, tucking her head against his chest. "What we have with Timothy and Sarah is something that is cultivated over years of hard work and unconditional love. You are their mother; we know it, Ari, Ziva and Tali know it, and Timothy and Sarah know it, and as long as they continue to embrace the world we have raised them in and the love we have given them, they will always be ours."

"We could... adopt them." She looked up at him, dark eyes pleading, and Eli knew that she was thinking of Ari. He sighed.

"How would Ziva feel about that, Rivkaleh? Think about it." She blushed, realizing what he meant. "Besides, with any luck, Timothy will be bound to our Ziva with gold and promises someday soon." He kissed her soundly, tightening his hold on her as she returned to his chest. "And then they will give us grand babies- strong, healthy sons and daughters we can spoil with candies and Arabian horses."

Rivka giggled. "Ziva has not forgiven us for telling her _she_ could not have a pony, Eli, so what makes you think she would allow us to give her children ponies?"

He chuckled. "Perhaps you are right, Rivka. Ziva would only blow a fit and demand her own." He kissed her head. Silence fell, before Rivka whispered,

"I want them to stay here. I want all three of my daughters in good, solid relationships, and... and I want to watch them become mothers."

"I know, my love."

She sniffled, finally breaking down. _"Oh God, Eli, we almost lost them."_

He tightened his hold, kissing her head firmly. "Hush, Rivka, hush. We did not. They are safe, they are still in Israel. They are _safe._ I promise."


	33. Chapter 33

**Rifiuto: Non Mirena**

 **Thanks to Reader aka Sun Samurai for reviewing 31 and 32.**

 _Tel Aviv,_

 _Israel,_

 _The Next Day_

The cup rattled as she set it on the counter, and she forced herself to hold her hands steady.

This was ridiculous.

She was a grown woman, shaking like a child caught in a rainstorm. There was no reason for her to be scared-

Except that she was.

She glanced at the clock again, checking the time. She'd called Tim and Ziva that morning, informing them that they weren't to go into work today; that Eli had gone in to get everything set up for the day and would be back by eight-fifteen, and that they needed to be at the house by nine. Tim had said they'd be there, and that he loved her before hanging up.

Slowly, someone reached over, laying a hand against her wrist. "You okay, _Ima_?"

Rivka looked up to find Tali watching her, worry in her dark eyes. She swallowed, forcing a nod. But before she could respond, the front door opened.

" _Ima_?" Tim and Ziva entered the kitchen not long after the door closed, and instantly, Ziva paled, rushing to her, Tim following behind. " _Ima_ , what is it, what is wrong?" Her mother shook her head.

"Nothing, is wrong, Ziva, love." She kissed her daughter's cheek. "You are early." Tim shrugged, hands in his pockets as Ziva pulled away and took her hand.

"We didn't _'ave_ anything we needed _t'_ get done, so-"

"Sex become too boring?" Sarah interjected, sticking her tongue out at him.

 _"Sarit!"_ She ignored Tali, as her brother returned it, before making his way to Rivka.

" _Funny_. Malachi stick his tongue down your throat yet?"

 _"Tim!"_ Ziva reached over, smacking him lightly on the shoulder. "That is not nice! Or funny!"

"Especially not if it's true." Tali muttered, snorting softly. However, he ignored the girls as he leaned over.

" _Ima, boker tov_. I'm sorry we're early." He pressed a kiss to her cheek, before Rivka did the same in return. She reached up, caressing his cheek.

"No need to apologize, _ahava_. Your fathers are not here yet." Out of the corner of her eye, she could see Sarah stiffen, and sighed. Maybe she should have eased into- _You did ease into it; that was easing into it!_

He furrowed a brow. "Ah... _fathers_?"

Slowly, Rivka nodded, meeting Tim's gaze. "John McGee and _Abba_ -" She was interrupted as the door opened and both men in question entered, talking softly together. Sarah's jaw dropped in horror.

"What is _he_ doing here? _Ima?_ "

Rivka sighed, getting up and glancing at the two older men. She then beckoned for them to follow, heading into the living room. Once everyone was seated, Rivka turned to Tim and Sarah. She took their hands, studying their fingers for several minutes. She sighed. "There is something you two must understand, about why you heard so little from..." She stopped. "From the McGees over the years." She glanced at John, who nodded.

"What is it?" Sarah asked, glancing at the other man before turning back to her mother. Rivka wouldn't look at her; instead, she kept playing with their fingers, completely silent, as though gathering her thoughts. " _Ima_? What are you not telling us?" Slowly, she lifted her head.

"We love you, both of you. You are our children in every way that matters. And given the choice, to take you in again and raise you as our own, _Abba_ and I would do it." The siblings shared a glance before Tim spoke up.

" _Ima_ , you're scaring us."

She smiled softly at Tim, reaching up to caress his cheek. "You both know that Israel is not exactly the safest place to live, let alone raise children. But it is doable." They nodded, silent. "Ireland is even less safe. And... unlike here, where the enemy is clearly known, there is no guarantee of whom the enemy is in Ireland. But innocent people get caught in the crossfire there as they do here, and are often forced to take the fall." She glanced at John, and the kids followed her gaze. "Mr. McGee was one of them."

 _"Ani lo mevina."_ Sarah turned back to Rivka. _"Ima?"_ But her brother understood right away.

"You were in prison."

John nodded. "H-Block. Same cell Bobby Sands died in." He gave a dry laugh. "Ten years in H-Block, for a crime I _dinna_ commit. Simply _b'caus_ e I was a Catholic, _an' th'_ Protestants were _lookin' f'r_ someone _t'_ blame."

"What happened?" John shook his head, meeting Tim's gaze.

" _Bombin'_ in _Belfas'_ , witnesses spotted two men _fleein' th'_ scene; I was in _th'_ same area at _th'_ time. Mistaken _id'ntity_. Kathleen dried up our _savin's, ret'rment, th'_ funds we were _gonna_ use _t'_ bring _ye_ both _'ome_ , for lawyers fees _an'... ev'rythin'_ imaginable in regards _t' th'_ case. Took _'em_ ten years, _b'fore th'_ real man came _f'rward an'_ confessed. They released me _wit'_ an apology a year ago, _an' 'tis_ taken us this long _t'_ finally save enough money _t'_ \- well, _'ccordin' t' Kathleen_ , come _ge'_ our _chil'ren_."

He shook his head as Rivka bristled. " _Bu' 'tis_ clear _tha' ye don'_ need us." John stood, going to the siblings. " _Ye've_ been raised by an _amazin'_ couple, _'ho 'ave_ given all they _'ave f'r ye_ both. Kathleen _canna le'_ it go- _tha' ye've_ already been raised. She still believes _'tis_ her duty _t'_ raise _ye_ , even _tho' ye're_ adults. Me?" He shrugged. "I _jus' wan'ed t'_ see _tha'_ _me_ babes were _'eathly an' 'appy an'_ settled. _An' ye_ are. _An' tha'_ is all I truly care _'bout_." As he moved towards the front door, Sarah got up, going to him.

"Mr. McGee?" She swallowed. " _Da?_ "

He turned back, smiling softly at her; Sarah threw her arms around him, hugging him tightly for several minutes before pulling away. " _Yer Ima 'as_ done an _'mazin'_ job, _wit'_ both _ye an' yer broth'r_. I _cou'dna_ asked _f'r_ a _bett'r_ woman _t'_ raise _ye_. All I wanted was _t'_ make sure _ye_ both are _'appy_." He then brushed a soft kiss to her forehead. Tim had sinced joined them, and after a moment, allowed John to wrap him in a hug. "I'm proud _o'_ both _o' ye_."


	34. Chapter 34

**Rifiuto: Non Mirena**

Dinner was quiet that evening, and both Rivka and Eli understood that it was because of John's visit. Of course, Rivka worried the McGee siblings would willingly return to Ireland now, though she needn't worry. It was very clear from their conversation and actions after John had left, that the siblings were going to stay in Israel.

 _They are staying. Thank God, my babies are staying. I do not know what I would have done had they decided-_

 _"Ima?"_ Tim's voice pulled Rivka from her thoughts, and she looked up, meeting his gaze across the dinner table. " _At beseder_?" She thought a moment before giving him a quick smile.

 _"Ahava, ani beseder."_

 _"Atta batuach?"_

She chuckled softly, reaching over and patting his hand gently before squeezing. " _Ahava, ken. Ani mavticha._ " She then leaned over, pressing a soft kiss to his cheek before getting up and taking her empty plate into the kitchen. The others watched her, all wearing looks of concern.

After dinner was finished and the dishes were placed in the sink, the family settled in the living room, enjoying the time together. Tali grabbed the remote, flicking the TV on and then began rummaging around the small case that held DVDS. Sarah slung herself into the armchair with a book, throwing her legs over the side, and watched as Tali flipped through the cases, searching for something.

"What are you looking for?" Tali glanced at her before returning to her search.

"That movie we watched last week. The one with the cowboys."

Sarah raised an eyebrow. "Which one with the cowboys? There are hundreds. Not that we have ever seen many."

It wasn't that the kids weren't cultured; they were perhaps the most cultured of any in Israel. But they'd had so little exposure to "Western" culture, that things like films and books were a treat- recently, Ziva and Tali had discovered the Harry Potter series; they'd read each book out loud, giving the characters accents and acting out scenes. And when the first two films had come out, the girls had managed to talk both McGee siblings into going to the theater. Most recently though, Tali had seen a documentary on the shootout at the O.K. Corral in Tombstone, and had searched everywhere when she'd found out there was a movie about it; it had been Michael Rivkin, who'd found the DVD in his own collection of American movies and given it to her. This would be the fourth time they watched it; it was one of those films that never got old and constantly fascinated. Even though they were in their early twenties, things like magic and wild west shootouts still amazed and excited the kids.

She glanced over at the sofa, where her brother sat with Ziva; Tali's older sister was perched in his lap, hands tangled in his hair as he slid a hand up her thigh, over her hip and under her blouse. The two were completely absorbed in each other, and Sarah rolled her eyes. If they started stripping, she was gonna lock herself in her- " _Hey! Get a room_ , you two!" They ignored her, and Sarah rolled her eyes, returning to her book.

"The one Michael gave us."

Sarah looked up from the page she was on. "You mean your _boyfriend_?" She giggled, lifting her hands to defend herself when Tali turned, throwing a magazine at her. It was common knowledge in Mossad that Rivkin and Tali had begun seeing each other- or, at least meeting for coffee when they weren't on assignment. 'Coffee' was Tali's story, though the other three knew exactly what she meant; however, it had been a shock to Ziva to come down to the cafe one afternoon and find her little sister snuggled up to Michael at a table, steaming cups in front of their laced hands. Both Tim and Ari had had a good talk with the other officer- something that had embarrassed Tali to no end- and after Eli had been informed- also another awkward conversation- they had left the pair be. Though occasional teasing was expected.

 _"S_ _heket bevakasha!"_

Sarah made a face, sticking her tongue out at the younger girl. " _Lech lehizdayen_."

 _"Hey! Language!"_ The teasing stopped, as Eli came into the living room from the study, having caught the last of the ribbing. Tim and Ziva finally broke apart; she slid off his lap onto the sofa, quickly readjusting her blouse. "What have your mother and I told you about using that type of language in this house?"

 _"Sarah Aileen."_ She looked up as Rivka came in from the kitchen, shaking her head. "You _know better_."

Sarah had the decency to look ashamed. _"Abba, Ima, slicha."_

Eli shook his head, making his way to the chair and kneeling down. _"Sarit, tizahari."_ She nodded as he leaned over, pressing a quick kiss to her forehead.

 _"Ken, Abba."_ She whispered as Eli took a seat in the other armchair and got out the chess set, setting it up. Tim instantly got up, joining him, and soon, the pair fell into a match. Ziva sighed, watching her boyfriend for several minutes, before getting up. She slid her arms around his shoulders from behind, leaning down to nip gently at his ear.

"Leave Timothy be, Zivaleh." Her father waved her away, and the young officer looked up, dark eyes smoldering.

"You and Tim always play chess after dinner. Can you not skip it for one night?"

Eli glanced at his daughter, as his surrogate son took his rook from the board. _Oh Ziva, my darling spitfire... so like your mother..._ "We are in the middle of a game, Zivaleh."

"I can _see_ that, _Abba_. But can you not skip _one game_? It will not kill either of you."

Tim reached up, taking one of her hands and bringing it to his mouth. He kissed it firmly. " _Don'_ tell me _ye're_ jealous _o'_ a chessboard, Zivaleh. And here I was hoping it was another woman." She swatted his chest gently, leaning down to whisper in his ear. He turned to her, meeting her gaze.

"If I had _ever_ cheated on you, Zivaleh, it would have been with Deena Bashan, and it would have happened _years ago_. But it hasn't, and it _won't_. And you threaten me again and you'll _ge'_ a taste _o' yer_ own medicine. _Abba_ trained me before he trained you. I have two years ahead _o'_ you, remember?" He turned back to the game, and Ziva leaned down, tongue trailing the shell of his ear. Eli watched in silence, shaking his head.

"Listen to him, Zivaleh. You keep poking at him and he will strike, and you will be the one crying."

But his daughter ignored him, and bit- gently, but firmly- on her boyfriend's ear. He jumped, letting out a yelp and grabbed her wrist, twisting her arm until she was sprawled in his lap, her arm held behind her back. "Ow!"

"What did I tell you?" He growled softly, meeting her gaze. She fought against him, an after a moment, he released her.

"Yeah, I know." She rubbed her arm, turning to the forgotten game. A sigh escaped her lips. "So how do you play?" Tim glanced at Eli, an eyebrow raised.

"You want to learn how to play chess?" She glanced between the two men.

"If you will teach me." A moment passed, as Tim glanced at the older man, who shrugged, before speaking. By then, Ziva had adjusted until she was balanced in his lap, watching as her father set the board up again in a new game.

Tim slid an arm around her waist. "Your main goal, is the capture your opponent's queen and put their king in checkmate, which will end in victory for you."

Rivka took a seat on the sofa as Tali soon joined her, having found and put _Tombstone_ into the player. As she and her younger girls settled down to watch the movie, she glanced over at her oldest, both absorbed in the game with Eli, completely oblivious to the movie playing-

 _"'I'm your huckleberry.'"_

Tali looked up at Rivka. "Hey, _Ima_?"

"Hmm?"

"What is a huckleberry?" Her mother opened her mouth to respond, before stopping.

"I... do not know."


	35. Chapter 35

**Rifiuto: Non Mirena**

 _Tel Aviv,_

 _Israel_

 _2004_

"You have nothing to be nervous about."

He stopped fiddling with his tie and turned, watching as she slipped into her heels from her place on the edge of their bed. "Easy for you to say, Zivaleh. You were born here. Sarah and I weren't."

She stood, going to him and taking the tie. A moment passed before she quickly fixed it for him, tightening it gently as she met his gaze. The McGees had returned to Ireland a week after the fiasco that had been _Shabbat_ dinner; Kathleen had gone reluctantly, still unable to understand how John could just allow their children to stay. And in the intervening months before the new year, Tim and Sarah had applied for, and been approved, Israeli citizenship. The swearing-in ceremony was that morning, and both siblings were nervous.

"You will be fine, Tim. You and Sarah are as much Israeli as Tali and I are." He rolled his eyes, sliding his arms around her waist as she smoothed the front of his shirt. "Do you believe you made the right decision?"

"With all my heart, Zivaleh." She smiled softly and nodded.

"Well, as long as you and _Sarit_ do not cast aside your religion, I will still allow you in my bed." He chuckled, and she grinned. "I am serious, Tim." She slid her arms around his neck. "The fact, that you and Sarah worship Catholicism instead of Judaism... it makes you different. It makes you unique. Beautiful in a way others here are not. And that... you do choose to go to synagogue with us... I know it touches _Ima_ and _Abba_ deeply, that you are willing to embrace our religion. And... that you allow us to embrace yours. It is a part of you- Catholicism- a part I would hate to see die away. It is one of the reasons I love you."

The kiss was soft, and then turned heated- she reluctantly pulled away, resting her forehead to his. "Later. I promise."

He groaned as she slid one hand down to gently caress him, a tiny grin tugging at her features as she kissed him once more and then pulled away. "Zivaleh, you're _killin'_ me here." She giggled, returning to him once she'd grabbed her light suit jacket and purse.

"Am I?" She asked innocently, returning her hand to gently cradle him as she pressed herself into his side. " _Good_." She leaned close. "Because once the ceremony is done and we have returned from _Abba_ and _Ima_ 's, I am going to spent the entire weekend making love to you. Neither of us are going to leave this bedroom for the next two days." She kissed his cheek. "Oh, and I know how much you love Ima's _Sachertorte_ with her marzipan filling."

"What about it?" Ziva grinned.

"She gave me the recipe last week when I asked. I hope you do not mind _sharing_ with me tonight." He slid his arms around her waist; the shift caused her to stroke him, and she giggled. "If I did not know you, Timothy, I would say that was deliberate." She teased, as he leaned down capturing her mouth. He tightened his hold on her, one hand working to tug her blouse free and slip between her skin and her skirt. He quickly unhooked the back of it before slipping his hand along her waist and sliding down between her thighs. He found the small bundle of nerves between her legs and gently worked to roll it through her lace lingerie.

She let out a moan, pushing herself into him and arching her back slightly. Eventually, however, she forced herself to pull away, knowing their family would be waiting for them at the courthouse. "Later, Tim. I promise, we will finish this later." She turned him around, pushing him towards the bathroom. "Now go wash your hands before I wash mine and then we can leave."

Once he was gone, she quickly re-hooked her skirt and re-tucked her blouse, forcing herself to think of something to calm her down. The last thing they needed was to show up flushed; neither she nor Tim would hear the end of it from Rivka. After they both washed hands, they left the apartment, making it to the courthouse in record time.

The ceremony was long, as ceremonies were, but worth it. As they left the courts, both Tim and Sarah with their passports in hand, Rivka turned to her family. She reached out, taking Sarah's hand and pulling her into a hug. "I am so proud of both of you." She kissed the girl's head, meeting Tim's gaze. "I just wish Ari had been here to see you two."

Someone tapped on Tim's shoulder, and he turned, eyes widening in shock. "Ari?" The older man chuckled, holding out his arms.

 _"Mazal Tov, akh katan."_

 _"Ari!"_ Sarah pulled away from Rivka, throwing herself into the doctor's arms at the same time Tim did. He laughed, kissing each forehead as he wrapped his arms around the pair whom he considered his siblings. " _What are you doing here?_ _Abba_ told us you could not make it-"

Tim turned back to their surrogate parents. The simple wink Rivka cast his way- so like her daughters- was all the confirmation he needed.

 _"Toda, Ima."_ He whispered, making his way her. The older woman smiled softly at him, wrapping him in a hug and kissing his temple.

 _"Ahava, al lo davar."_ Tali and Ziva shared a glance; it had been tough keeping such a big important secret, but getting to witness Tim and Sarah's reactions had been worth it. It was so rare that Ari returned to Israel, thanks to his schedule at the hospital, so when he did, he often made the most of his visits or only came down for important events- holidays, anniversaries, citizenship ceremonies. He would be in Tel Aviv for the next three days before flying out again on Friday, heading back to England, and the four would do all they could to catch up with him in those intervening three days.

Ziva watched as Tim pressed a kiss to Rivka's cheek and then did the same to Eli in thank you before returning to Ari and Sarah.

She sighed as Tali linked arms with her and pressed a kiss to her cheek before resetting her head to her sister's shoulder. Ziva held her close.

But tonight, he would be hers.


	36. Chapter 36

**Rifiuto: Non Mirena**

 **Thanks to Reader aka Sun Samurai for reviewing 33, 34 and 35 and crawcolady for reviewing 33.**

"Rivka? Come to bed, my love." He found her in the study, curled up on the sofa, a photo album in her lap. "Oh, Rivka."

She looked up as he joined her; the tears that ran down her cheeks glistened in the dim light and she sniffled. Her nose was red and her hair a mess.

The house was quiet- Ari had been the first to bid everyone goodnight, leaving with kisses and promises that he'd be back in the morning to spend breakfast with all of them; Tim and Ziva had left an hour later, promising the same. It had been evident that they had something planned for that night, just the two of them. An hour or so later, Malachi had shown up on the doorstep, asking after Sarah, and the young Irishwoman had fled, kissing them both on the cheek with promises to be in by curfew. And Tali had, in her usual, quiet manner, informed her parents that Michael was picking her up- they had plans to drive out to the beach and watch the stars.

This was the first time in a long time the house was near dead silent, and it was freaking Rivka out.

"When exactly did they grow up, Eli? I _swear_ , I was watching them-"

He chuckled, taking a seat beside her. "When we were not looking, my love."

She shook her head. "No. I was always looking, always watching them and suddenly-" She swallowed. "Suddenly they have grown up and Tim and Ziva have gotten their own place and are in a steady relationship and Ari is living and working in England and Tali and Sarah are both starting relationships... next thing there will be engagements and _weddings_ and babies being born and-" A moment passed, before she choked on a sob, curling into Eli's side. _"When did my children stop being children?"_

A soft laugh escaped Eli's throat, and he slid an arm around her waist, kissing her head before glancing at the photo album in her lap. "They will never stop being children, Rivka, no matter how old they get or where their lives take them. We will always see them as our children, even when they are old and grey and have had many children of their own." He studied the images of his five sitting together on the porch steps of Be'er Sheva, dressed for morning prayers. "I do not think Tim and Sarah fully believed it, that they are officially Israelis now. _Sarit_ spent the entire ceremony holding Timothy's hand, her green eyes wide, as though she were trying to wake from some dream."

Rivka sniffled. "They truly are ours now, _ken_ , Eli? They have renounced their Irish citizenship; they are Israeli now, that means they are _ours_ , right? Ours and no one else's?" He met her gaze. "We are their parents?"

"We have always been their parents, Rivka, my love."

She sighed, knowing that Eli was right, but still, a tiny part of her couldn't help but worry. The debacle with their birth parents had scared her enough to keep her hackles raised in regards to her surrogate children. There was no way she was letting them out of her sight unless she had too. "I just... for a brief moment, I thought John was going to try to persuade them to return to Ireland and-"

"I know, love. It scared you. It scared me too. But Timothy and Sarah both know that there is nothing for them in Ireland; they do not have the family connections in Ireland that they do here." He reached up, brushing his fingers against her cheek. "They do not have us there; therefore they have no reason to ever go to Ireland. Unless they wish too." He stood, holding out a hand. "Come on; it is late."

When they slipped into bed twenty-minutes later, Rivka curled into his arms, resting her head on his chest. He rubbed her back, tangling his fingers in her hair momentarily before stroking his fingers once more down her back. She nuzzled into him, unbuttoning his pajama top and pushing it aside, tracing her fingers over his chest, brushing a kiss to the light matting of hair beneath her fingers. She had learned early on in their marriage of Eli's quiet temper and deep desire to keep the safety and well-being of his family prominent.

So when Leon had come to them, informing them of the plight of Ireland's children, of how homes with loving families were needed, and the situation was urgent that they get as many out of the violence as they could, the couple had gone round in circles, trying to decide if it was the right thing to do, bringing an unknown child or children into their home; their first concern had been for their children, and how they would react. But eventually, the need to help won out, and they agreed, not knowing if they were receiving one child or a pair of siblings or more. Eli had, eventually, equated the plight of Ireland's children to the hiding of Jews during the _HaShoah_ \- and how Catholic and Christian families had taken in sometimes whole families of Jews, protecting them from the violence, even at risk of their own lives.

And they had quickly learned upon meeting Tim and Sarah, that they'd made the right choice in taking them. Shy to the point that it was painful, the two had spent the first two hours after arriving home glued to each other's sides; when Eli had separated the siblings in order to show each of them their rooms, Sarah had let out an ungodly scream, latching onto her brother, sobbing and begging to go with them- she'd been terrified Eli would do something to hurt her brother. It was quite clear just how scarred both were, though the amount of violence they'd witnessed before coming to Israel would never be fully known; neither Tim nor Sarah remembered much, and what they did remember, they didn't discuss, even to this day.

But after those first initial hurdles- especially during that first week- things had begun to calm down, and by the time the siblings had hit high school, they had begun considering themselves Davids instead of McGees. Eli was their father, no question, and Rivka was in every way that counted their mother.

She sighed. "I wish..."

He looked down at her. "You wish what, Rivka?"

His wife was silent for several minutes, before,

"There is... a very small part of me that... that wishes they were mine." He furrowed a brow, and she continued, sitting up. "Eli, is it... selfish of me?"

"Selfish how, Rivka?" He asked, joining her and sitting back against the headboard.

She met his gaze, tears in her eyes as her hands moved down to cradle her womb. "To... to wish that... that I had been the one to bear them? To bring them into this world? Am I selfish, Eli, for hating Kathleen because she gave birth to them?"

He pulled her close, pressing a kiss to her head. "God, Rivka, not at all. Not at all."


	37. Chapter 37

**Rifiuto: Non Mirena**

"I had a wonderful time, Michael."

He nodded, shutting the driver's side door and turning to her, leaving the keys dangling in the ignition, the sound of the waves crashing on the beach muffled. "So did I, Talia."

She blushed; only her parents ever called her by her full name. Occasionally Ari would as well, but most everyone called her Tali, because Talia was so... formal.

It didn't help that both she and her sister were both namesakes- Ziva Bodnar-Eschel, Rivka's grandmother, had been as wild and tomboyish as her younger namesake; originally the youngest daughter of a Jordanian sheikh and a Jordanian Jew, she'd been raised in The White City- Amman- but had developed a fascination of Israel after meeting a young Israeli scholar at university. At the tender age of eighteen, she had gone gallivanting off into the Israeli desert, in search of adventure and romance, her head filled with ideas that she would one day change the world. The man had abandoned her not long after she'd arrived in Tel Aviv, and she'd been forced to find the means with which to support herself.

By twenty, she had written several novels and started her own business- a small publishing house in the heart of Tel Aviv- and married Asher Eschel, an architect who had been responsible for some of the most beautiful buildings that still stood in Tel Aviv today. Then pregnant with her first child, her doctor had convinced her husband to take her to Haifa so she could rest, where she'd walk the beaches barefoot and in nothing more than a black slip, notepad and pen in hand. She had written another six novels by the time she gave birth, and had informed her husband that she loved the area so much she wished to stay. She had left that very summer home to her youngest daughter upon her death- who in turn left it to her youngest daughter- and it wasn't uncommon to see Rivka walking the same beaches her grandmother walked decades earlier. Rivka's grandmother never set foot in either Amman or Jordan again; she'd died in eighty-one, a few short months before Rivka had given birth to her own child- living long enough for her granddaughter to inform her of their intentions to name their first child after her.

The girls had grown up hearing the stories, and Tali had always felt sorry for her sister- Ziva always felt overshadowed by their great-grandmother, and so tried hard to live up to her namesake.

Compared to Ziva, Tali had it easy.

Relatively.

There were no starry-eyed dreams, no striking out her own for Liat _Da_ vid. One of seven to survive the massacre at Jedwabne, Liat- then a mere child of four at the time- had fled Poland during the war, only to be captured and chosen for transport to Theresienstadt, where she remained until liberation in forty-five. After seeking refuge in Israel after the war, she had spent the next two years in a group home for children before being adopted by an Israeli couple at age ten. Once she'd reached high school age, she'd taken an job at a local restaurant waitressing, and it was there that she met Hadar _Da_ vid, a young man who worked for a small publishing house. Their courtship had been fast, and they had married when Liat was eighteen. A year later, at just days past her nineteenth birthday, she'd given birth to her oldest- Tali and Ziva's father, in fifty-six. She and Hadar would eventually have seven children; a boisterous family she would watch over until her death in eighty-three. Though she was the well-loved matriarch of the _Da_ vid family, one thing remained, to this day, a constant mystery.

No one, except Liat herself, knew of where the name Talia had come from. It was fairly easy to rearrange the letters and get the nickname, but the actual name itself was a different story. At some point in her life, years after surviving the _HaShoah_ , Liat had changed her name. But all were unclear of when or where this had taken place; even the why remained a mystery in and of itself. It was often speculated that she had switched the letters of her name around and added an 'a' to the end, in order to break off all ties to her past, to a family she no longer remembered and would never see again. Yet this was all speculation.

All anyone knew for certain, was that one day she _insisted_ on being called _Talia_ instead of Liat and the name had stuck. And after she'd died, Eli had insisted that their second-born daughter bear his mother's name- not her real name, but the name she had chosen that stripped her of the horrors she'd witnessed at Jedwabne.

Talia, called Tali.

Of course, the youngest _Da_ vid girl didn't think of her grandmother or the Hell she'd survived; unlike Ziva, who'd been barely two at the time, Tali had not even been considered by the time Liat, the child from Jedwabne, had died. Instead, she had grown up listening to stories of her grandmother, and how she'd survived one of the worst mass killings in history, but had never given much thought to the woman responsible for the creation of the _Da_ vid line. To this day, Liat "Talia" _Da_ vid was nothing but a mere footnote in the family tree as far as her youngest granddaughter was concerned.

"I hate being called Talia. It is far too serious." Michael slid his arms around her waist, holding her close.

"You are serious." She narrowed her gaze.

"I am not. I resent being called serious. Everyone thinks I am serious, and that Ziva does not know the first thing about being serious." She screwed up her mouth, becoming lost in thought.

"I think Timothy has calmed your sister greatly. She is not as..." He stopped, choosing his words carefully. "wild as she used to be when she first joined Mossad."

"I can be wild, just like Zivaleh." Tali replied, meeting his gaze. "And Ziva can be serious." She swallowed, leaning close. "Make love to me, Michael."

He chuckled, reaching up and caressing her cheek. "Where exactly? A hotel-"

She nodded, leaning over and capturing his lips in hers. "The backseat."


	38. Chapter 38

**Rifiuto: Non Mirena**

 **Thanks to Reader aka Sun Samurai for reviewing 36 and 37.**

"Have I ever told you that I love you in black silk?"

She giggled, glancing over her shoulder as he joined her in the kitchen. It was almost one in the morning, and after several hours of lovemaking and some sleep, they were up again, eager to pick up where they'd left off. He leaned down, kissing the joined skin between her neck and shoulder, his arms slid around her waist and she sighed before pulling away and grabbing a knife, cutting a small section off of what remained of the cake. The rest had been used in various forms of foreplay that evening after they returned from dinner with Eli and Rivka, but a good portion remained, waiting to be eaten, or used however they saw fit.

Foreplay had always been a part of their sex life, from the time they were fourteen and sixteen, respectfully, and as they'd gotten older, the teasing had gotten bolder, the kisses harder and the touches rougher. Both had tapped into their sexuality early on in their relationship- a mere glance or touch or whispered word could start the knots tangling in their stomachs.

She set the knife in the sink after placing the slice on a plate, and turned to him. "You do not mind sharing it with me, do you, Tim?" He watched in silence as she proceeded to suck the frosting off her finger, and he chuckled, silently wanting nothing more than to do such a thing.

"Call it a requirement." He whispered, kissing her firmly.

They'd left not long after dinner finished, bidding everyone goodnight and promising to be over the next day; as soon as they'd stepped through the door, Ziva had tugged him to the bedroom, promising his reward from earlier, and changed into a sexy little number before slipping out of the room to get the cake. "I hope you do not mind. I wanted to make last night special for you."

He grinned. "Last night was special _because_ of you. I don't need anything else _but_ you, Zivaleh."

A smile graced her features, before she pulled away, moving back towards the bedroom, the plate in her her hands. He joined her, shutting the door softly behind them. They spent the time teasing each other with the cake, often breaking down in laughter or sharing soft, intimate kisses. By the time the plate had been set on the nightstand, they'd both stripped of their clothes and were working on enjoying the taste of each other.

Eventually, they shifted; Tim sat back against the pillows with Ziva in his lap. She settled herself on him, groaning softly as she felt him enter her. _If you were honest with yourself, the latex makes it even more plea-_

A soft cry of pleasure escaped her throat as she shifted and he hit the right spot. He slid his hands over her back, pulling her close until they met in a deep kiss. They soon fell into a steady, familiar rhythm, going from slow to fast and back again, until they were bringing each other to the brink. She shifted, settling comfortably into his lap, until he was deep within her and she was nestled comfortably around his length. With a soft sigh, Ziva rested her head against his shoulder, closing her eyes and letting herself relax. He slipped his arms around her waist, holding her to him as he nuzzled into her tangled mass of curls. The scent of sex and arousal wrapped around them, and after a moment, she pressed a kiss to his neck.

"Did I ever tell you how proud I am?" He pulled away, meeting her gaze, brow furrowed. She reached up, gently thumbing his bottom lip. "Of what you and Sarah have done. Not many would walk away from their birthright simply for a country and a people they do not know."

He caught her hand, kissing her palm. "Sarah _an'_ I _'ave_ grown up here, Zivaleh. Israel is not simply a country, it is our home. _An'_ Ireland..." He shook his head. "It may have been our home once, but not anymore. Ireland is just... just a place. It is not our home. It will never be our home. _Israel_ is our home. You are part of my home."

She giggled softly, recognizing her own words being handed back to her, and after a moment, she leaned over, kissing him deeply. Without any warning, he flipped them over, breaking the kiss and turning his attention to her breasts. They took it slow, enjoying the act of making love itself, the kissing, the touching, the feel of being joined together again. When they eventually reached climax and collapsed in each others' arms, Ziva stretched, watching as her boyfriend removed the condom and got up, tossing it in the trash in the bathroom before rejoining her. She shifted towards him, curling into his arms.

"It was wonderful to see Ari again." He nodded, kissing her head. "He is always in England now; he rarely comes home."

"He works in London, Zivaleh. Of course he's going to be in London." She reached up, gently smacking his cheek as she met his gaze.

"You know what I mean." Tim chuckled.

" _Ken_." Their kiss was soft and gentle before she tucked her head beneath his chin. "Ari informed me last night after dinner that he approved."

"Of _what?_ " She pulled away to look up at him.

"Us."

"Tim, you did not ask-"

"No. Ari brought it up. He told me that, he was happy you had found someone, and that he was grateful it was me, even though I'd been raised by your parents."

"But I never thought of you as a sibling, Tim." She reached up, caressing his cheek. "You have always been more than that to me." He raised an eyebrow, confused, and she smiled softly, trailing her fingers over his cheek and along the bridge of his nose. "You have always been the man I was going to marry. I knew it from the moment we picked you and Sarah up at the airport."


	39. Chapter 39

**Rifiuto: Non Mirena**

 _Be'er Sheva,_

 _Israel_

 _2004_

" _Ima_? Can we talk?"

Rivka looked up from her page; Tim stood before her, his green eyes filled with worry. Instantly, she marked her page and set her book aside, holding out a hand. He joined her on the sofa, and she pulled him into her arms, stroking her fingers gently through his hair with a kiss to his head. " _Ahava, mah zeh?_ What is this worry for, hmm?" She pulled away, gesturing to his eyes.

The agent swallowed, and Rivka paled. "It is not- Ziva is not-"

He shook his head. "No, _Ima_. I just... it has to do with..."

"With?" She pressed softly.

"Work." He whispered, and she nodded, before getting up. Ziva was sitting at the kitchen table with Tali and Ari, pouting like a child. Clearly, something had happened to upset her oldest daughter, and Rivka had a feeling it had to do with Tim. The family had come down to Be'er Sheva to spend some time with together with Ari before he returned to England. A moment passed before Tim joined her, and she led him outside, towards the olive groves. The three David siblings watched, sharing glances.

Tali had received a stern talking to from Ari that morning, after she'd snuck into the house to find the rest of her family already sitting down to coffee and conversation. Of course, Rivka knew immediately why her daughter was trying to sneak back in, and had dragged her youngest child into the study, where an argument had erupted between the pair. It was moments like that when Rivka finally realized that Tali was indeed her daughter- it just took longer for that famous Eschel temper to flare in her youngest than it did in her oldest. The yelling had been so loud, that Eli was fairly certain the neighbors could hear it.

Of course, Tali had stormed out of the study, screaming that she was a grown woman and was allowed to do as she pleased and that of course it had been protected- _"You never treated Zivaleh this way when she slept with Tim!"_ Such a declaration had been immediately followed by a very angry admission of, _"I did not know I was supposed to remain a virgin for the rest of my life! But since you are so concerned with my sex life, Ima, I lost my virginity, at eighteen, with Adam Harel not long after we both joined the IDF. It was protected, because you are so concerned one of us is going to catch something or give something or have a child out of wedlock! God forbid we should all actually make our own decisions in regards to our sex lives instead of you!"_ She had then stormed off to her room, ranting angrily in Hebrew about how Ziva always got away with everything because she was the oldest daughter, and how she was tired of taking second place to her sister.

Safe to say, the sisters weren't talking, and Ari was currently playing mediator in the middle. Once they'd slipped out of the house and headed down to the olive groves, Rivka spoke. "Talk to me, _ahava_." They continued on in silence for several minutes, before turned to her.

" _Abba_ has..." He sighed. " _Abba_ has decided that Mossad needs to work on its foreign affairs. It's foreign relations."

"All right. I do not see the problem, _ahava_." She replied as they continued walking.

"He wants to form an alliance with a government agency," Tim bit his lip, slipping his hands into his pockets. "In America."

Rivka turned to him. She had lived and slept by Eli's side long enough to know that there was a bigger reason to her husband's actions. "I still do not see the problem, Timothy. America is an ally of Israel, has been since Israel was born in the years after the war. The bonds they share are weak, and they need to be strengthened. This could do that." She watched him worry his bottom lip. "America is the most powerful nation in the world. It was dealt a crushing blow in two-thousand, but it has bounced back, as it always has and always will. We are fortunate to have America on our side."

"I know."

"Allegiance with America is not the problem, is it, Timothy?"

He shook his head, stopping when they reached one of the oldest tress. "No, _Ima_."

She was silent for several minutes before,

 _"Abba_ is planning something, _ken_?"

The young man nodded.

"What?" Green eyes darted up from their study of the dirt to meet hers briefly. "Timothy, what is your father planning?"

He swallowed thickly. "To... to send an officer to act as a _liaiso_ n between Mossad and... N-C-I-S." He spoke slowly, being careful of the correct pronunciation of the agency's name. For Rivka, it clicked.

"Eli has chosen you."

Tim nodded quickly, sniffling. "I don't want to go, _Ima_ , but _Abba_ will not give it to anyone else. He does not trust anyone else to handle the assignment but me. Wh... what do I do?"

"Have you told Ziva yet?" He shook his head. "Then I suggest you tell her first. She will not approve, that will be clear, but there is nothing she can do about it. She will rant and rave like she does, but Eli will quickly remind her of her place within the agency. Ziva does not have the experience that you do, Timothy." She reached up, caressing his cheek. "She is still young in the ways of the world and how it works. She still possesses a touch of innocence- the same that you lost long ago, before you even came to this country." She gently stroked his cheek with her thumb. "No, Ziva will not take this well at all."

" _What do I do,_ _Ima_? What do I tell her? And _Abba?_ I don't want to go. He can give the assignment to Malachi or Michael or Liat even, I do not want it."

Rivka sighed, pulling him close. "You talk to Ziva and tell her first, and then you talk to Eli. I cannot fix this, Timothy, I can only suggest." He nodded, reaching up and kissing her palm. She then pulled him into her arms, holding her son close.

"Will you stay with me, _Ima_? When I tell Zivaleh?"

She chuckled softly. "Of course, _ahava_. If I did not, that would be like draping a cobra about your neck and telling it not to bite. You need never ask, Timothy. Never."


	40. Chapter 40

**Rifiuto: Non Mirena**

 **Thanks to MusicWithinMe for reviewing 38 and Reader aka Sun Samurai for reviewing 38 and 39.**

The three siblings looked up as Tim and Rivka stepped back into the house; Sarah was stretched out on the sofa, head buried in a book and Eli was finishing up a phone call. "Ah, Timothy." The younger man turned as Eli ended the conversation and made his way towards him. "I just spoke to Director Shepard. She has chosen the team you will be assigned to."

"Assigned?" Ziva's attention snapped towards her father and boyfriend, suddenly confused. "Assigned _what_?" She cried, getting up. "Tim, what is going on?" Her boyfriend sighed, slipping his hands into his pockets and shrugging.

"I think I had best start lunch. Is anyone hungry?"

 _"Ima, stay!"_

Rivka stopped, her back to the kids. _God, there are days when she sounds just like you._

"You know. Tim told you, _ken? Ima_?" Slowly, her mother turned, meeting her gaze.

"It is not for me to tell you, Ziva. It is Timothy's news to share." She glanced between her children, meeting his gaze. A moment passed, before Ziva turned to her boyfriend.

"News? What news, Tim? What are you hiding?" The young Irishman sighed, rubbing a hand over his face before he reached for her.

"Abba thinks that it would be a good idea to strengthen Isreal's foreign relations with America." He took her hands, pulling her close. She studied his face, but he kept his green eyes securely locked on the necklace he'd given her when she turned fourteen. Gently, he reached up, playing with it. "He talked to the director of N-C-I-S and they decided to create a liaison position; someone who can move between the agency and Mossad."

Ziva furrowed a brow. " _Ani lo mevina_. You are not making sense, Tim." Her boyfriend sighed, glancing at Eli. The conversation that passed between the men in her life quickly filled her in, and she shook her head. "No. _No! You? Why you?_ " Before Tim could answer, she turned to her father. _"How could you? Could you not send someone else, Abba! Another agent, a... an interpreter... hell, Sarah or Tali even- but why Tim?"_

 _"Hey!"_ Both Tali and Sarah were on their feet instantly; only Ari remained seated, watching the growing argument. _"Like either of us want to go to America!"_

"Ziva-" She ignored her father, reaching out to strike, but Tim grabbed her wrist, meeting her gaze.

 _"Or why not send, me, then? Or the two of us together?"_ She demanded of her father, yanking her wrist out of Tim's grasp.

"You do not have the experience, Ziva." Eli whispered. His oldest scoffed.

" _I_ do not have the _experience_?"

"I am not going to jeopardize our relationship with America by sending you to act as a liaison, Ziva! And if I were to send you with Timothy, God only knows what would happen!"

"You think... that I would _jeopardize_ relations between some _crappy_ American agency and Mossad? That I would drag our agency through the dirt? _You trained me, Abba!_ You _know_ I would never do something like that!"

"No, _I_ trained you." Tim cut in, stepping closer to her. "I took over your training because _Abba_ asked me too. I trained you, Ziva, or have you _forgotten_?" She met her boyfriend's gaze, before pushing hard against his chest. He stepped back, studying her. She shook her head, struggling to contain the tears that began to prick the backs of her eyes, and she turned to her father.

"Why Tim? You are _our father, Abb_ a, not just our director, _our father_! Does that not come first? Do we not come first before _Mossad?_ " She shook her head. "We will _never_ come before Mossad, because there is _nothing but Mossad_ for you! We are not your _children_ , we are _your soldiers_! _We have never been your children!_ " She choked on a sob, pulling away when Eli reached for her. _"Ani son-'ah otkha! I hate you, Abba! I absolutely hate you!"_

She then fled, rushing out the backdoor, down the steps of the porch and into the olive groves. "Zivaleh's right, you know." Everyone turned to Ari, who simply wrapped his hands around his coffee mug. "Suddenly, you stopped looking at then as your children and started looking at them as your agents, your officers. That is fine while at work, _Abba_ , but not at home. At home, they aren't your officers, they are your _children_. You need to distinguish between and treat them as such." He finished the last of his coffee and stood, rinsing the cup out before putting it in the sink.

"How would you know, Arieh?" Rivka asked softly. He stopped in front of his stepmother, chuckling softly.

"Because, _Ima_ ," He whispered. "I'm a doctor. I was trained to look for the smallest anomalies and correct them. That is what I'm trying to do." He then pressed a kiss to her cheek before excusing himself and going in search of his little sister. Without a word, Tali stormed off to her room and Tim and Sarah slipped out onto the back porch.

Ari found his little sister sitting under one of the veteran olive trees, tears slipping quietly down her cheeks. Ziva hated crying; and getting caught crying- "You do not have to act strong with me, Ziva, you know that." She looked up as he took a seat beside her.

"How can _Abba_ do that? How can he just... decide to send Tim over to America without telling me? Tim is my boyfriend, should I not get some say?" He pulled her into his side, brushing a kiss to her head.

"Come here, _akhot ktana_." She snuggled into his side. "It does not matter what you think; _Abba_ is not thinking of you, he is thinking of Israel. He is thinking of the alliance that will strengthen with America. He is thinking as a director, not as a father." She lifted her head, and he brushed a wayward strand out of her eyes. "And that is his flaw."

"What flaw?" She lay her head back on his shoulder.

" _Abba_ has forgotten that he lives with four women- it does not matter that you and Timothy live together, you still live with _Abba_ and _Ima_ \- in a sense."

"What does that have to do with anything?" He shrugged, thinking.

"Just that... at any given moment, you can make _Abba_ 's life a living hell." He met her gaze, and she giggled, wrapping her arms around him.


	41. Chapter 41

**Rifiuto: Non Mirena**

Dinner that night was quiet; Tali slipped off to call Michael, Sarah settled down on the sofa for a game of Chess with Ari, and Ziva made a show of grabbing Tim's hand and yanking him out the door; the sound of the car starting soon disappeared as the two headed to the outskirts of Be'er Sheva proper, most likely to engage in some well-known stress release. Rivka then slipped out onto the back porch with two cups of coffee, joining her husband on the accepted the mug silently as Rivka pulled her feet up beneath her on the swing.

"Everything Ziva said was true. I have treated all four of them as my agents over the years, not as my children. At work it is permitted, but at home... somehow, I have crossed a line without realizing. And I do not know how to fix it." His wife watched him, her dark gaze fixed on him as she sipped quietly from her mug. "When did I fail then, Rivka? I thought that I had always done right by the girls, by Timothy and Sarah, but today..." He sighed, rubbing a hand over his face and leaning forward to rest his elbows on his knees, hands wrapped around the mug. "Today just showed me how deeply I have let them all down."

Rivka studied him in silence. Eli was the love of her life, the only man she'd ever loved, if she were honest with herself. He'd given her two beautiful girls to call her own, and had told Leon yes, they'd take the McGee siblings into their home, if only until the violence ended, against Rivka's own wishes and fears. He'd warmed up, over the years, to the Irish-born siblings living and growing up in his home, and eventually started looking on them as his.

But now, because of this liaison position, the director had unknowingly ripped his family right down the middle; both Sarah and Tali saw his choosing of Tim for the position as favoritism among not necessarily his agents, but his own children, Tim was surprisingly indifferent in regards to his assignment, as if he were counting down the minutes between having to start work at the agency in America, and when he could return home to Israel, and Ziva-

Eli sighed.

There was no way Ziva would ever forgive him, not for this... betrayal as she saw it.

"I tried doing everything right for them, Rivka. And... and yet somehow, my job took over my family..." He turned to her. "This is not what I wanted for our children. Ari as a doctor, yes, but... but _four_ of them... in _Mossad_? Despite what they think I wanted, this was not it."

She set her mug on the low coffee table and scooted closer, sliding her arms around his shoulders, kissing the dip where his shoulder and neck met. "I know, my love. I did not want this for them either."

"Why did we not push Ziva harder to go to university? We could have kept her out of this life." Rivka shook her head.

"Ziva is stubborn, Eli. You know if we had, she would have quit and joined Mossad anyway. Anything to be with Timothy." She rested her cheek against his shoulder briefly. "Those two are so deeply tied together by fate that nothing will keep them apart. He possesses half of her soul and she his." She kissed his shoulder again. "And one day, when they both have finally left Mossad and settled down," She reached up, stroking her fingers through his hair. "they will make us our first grand baby. And that baby will have his father's eyes and his mother's smile, and he will follow his _Abba_ around everywhere."

She kissed his temple. "And then they will make us a little granddaughter, and she will have you wrapped around her tiny fingers from the moment it is discovered that she is growing in her _Ima_ 's belly." A soft sigh escaped her throat, and she closed her eyes briefly. "They will make the most beautiful babies," She kissed his hair again, trailing her fingers through it. "They will give us so many grandbabies we will lose count."

Eli pulled away, turning to meet her gaze. "You have been planning this, Rivka." She raised an eyebrow briefly, never breaking his gaze.

"And you have not?" She took the mug, setting it beside hers on the table before shifting into his lap and sliding her arms around his neck. "If you mean that I have been hoping Timothy and Ziva would be together, _ken_ , I have." He narrowed his gaze, and she sighed. "All right. I guess that I... have been... _hoping_." She tightened her arms gently. "Is that so wrong?"

He sighed, tightening his arms around her waist. "No. But we have dictated their lives too often, my love. And this..." He shook his head. "I should have talked to Timothy before giving him the assignment."

"You did. You had a long discussion, the two of you, Tim told me. It is not your fault that Ziva reacted badly. Well, part of it is; she is your daughter after all." He scoffed gently as she reached up and caught his chin in her hand. "But I am saying, _Elijah_ , that you could have spoken to Ziva as well about this, and her reaction would still be the same. You could have offered the assignment to another agent or officer and Timothy still would have taken it, because he would feel that he is best for the job. That is how we raised him."

 _Maybe so, but he is still our son, and I should have treated him as my son, not as one of my agents._ No matter how Eli's mind might protest, he knew that she was right. Rivka was usually right in regards to so many things.


	42. Chapter 42

**Rifiuto: Non Mirena**

 **Thanks to Reader aka Sun Samurai for reviewing 40 and 41.**

"I will not let you go."

 _"Zivaleh-"_

 _"No. He cannot do this to us, Tim! He cannot send you to another continent and expect me to... to deal with it! That is not fair!"_

Tim sighed, reaching down and pulling the small square of foil from his pants pocket. The first had already been used. They had driven to the outskirts of Be'er Sheva proper, and after a fairly strong, heated argument, had moved to the backseat and proceeded to make up the usual way. With the windows steamed to the point that passersby couldn't see their activities, and the smell of sex strong within the car and on their skin, it was clear that they'd made up. They currently lay beneath the blankets and pillows they kept in the trunk, both completely relaxed. He proceeded to play with the foil, meeting her gaze.

"There is nothing I can do about it now, Zivaleh. There would be no point in withdrawing when I have already agreed to take the position. What would they say about how _Abba_ runs Mossad if I withdraw from the position? Besides, it is only for a year at most."

She reached over, snatching the foil from him and proceeding to rip it open. "A lot can happen in a year, Timothy." She sat up, removing the condom and reaching down to push the blanket up. Her small fingers stroked his length, drawing a soft moan from his throat, and after a moment she slid the condom on before moving to straddle him. "Who is to say you will not go to America and sleep with an American girl? That is, after all, what every man dreams of, _ken_?"

He met her gaze, reaching up and tangling his fingers in her hair. "I'm _not_ every man, Zivaleh." Their mouths met in a deep, searching kiss, and he slid his other hand down her back, caressing the plump curve of her backside gently before he squeezed firmly as he pushed against her. She let out a yip of surprise, pulling away to meet his gaze. Something sparked in her eyes,and she opened her mouth to speak.

 _"Timothy!"_

"Did you think that was my knee?"

She giggled; their gazes locked, and she hoovered for a moment before slowly lowering herself onto him with a soft grunt. Her eyes closed and she rested her hands against his chest, allowing herself to get used to the familiar feeling before she gently began to shift, swaying her hips side to side in attempt to get comfortable. Once settled, she leaned down, meeting his gaze. "That," She leaned down, pressing a quick open-mouthed kiss to his lips. "was definitely _not_ your knee."

She soon let out a laugh as he flipped them over, pressing her into the blankets and proceeding to move his lips to her neck. Nails dug into skin, leaving small crescent moons; he worked on the soft swells of her breasts, teasing her nipples gently with his tongue. A moan of pleasure escaped her throat as he thrust into her; the pace was slow, leisurely, gentle. They took their time, enjoying the feel of being together, of being joined as one.

When finally they collapsed in each others' arms, the condom swelled between them, their bodies slick with sweat and their hair riled and tangled, they settled next to each other, the blankets tucked loosely around their bodies. Tim slid his arms around her waist, holding her close; she slid her arms around his neck, nudging her nose against his. He kissed her softly before wrapping his arms around her and burying his face in her hair. She held him close, tracing him with her fingers and then her lips, and they soon fell into soft kisses and gentle caresses.

"I love you, Zivaleh." She smiled softly, brushing her fingers along his cheek. To think, she'd heard that four years ago when they were still in their mere teens- and that he'd been whispering it to her ever since- made her heart swell. She whispered it back, gently thumbing his bottom lip. They spent the rest of the night kissing and caressing, whispering soft promises to each other. By the time they drove back to the house at one that morning, it was quiet, though both were surprised to see Eli sitting at the table, lost in thought. The couple shared a glance, before going to him. " _Abba? Atah beseder?_ " The director looked up, not at all surprised to see his second oldest.

He sighed, gesturing for them to sit; once they'd joined him, he got up, pouring two cups of coffee and setting them before the two agents before speaking. "I need to apologize, to both of you. I should not have just assumed that Timothy would want the assignment, and I should have discussed it with him first- truly discussed it- before deciding. I should have also taken your feelings into account, Ziva. You are my daughter as much as Timothy is my son, and I did not consider how this assignment would affect your relationship. I am sorry."

The couple shared a glance, before Tim reached over, taking Eli's hand. " _Abba_ , I would still take the assignment, you know I would. Besides, you said it yourself, it will only be for a year, and then I will be home again working missions for Mossad with," He glanced beside him, and she smiled softly, leaning against him and wrapping a hand around his bicep. She pressed a kiss to his arm, watching her father silently. "with Zivaleh, as we should be." The two shared a soft kiss and Eli chuckled, turning as the light flicked on in the living room and Rivka entered.

She went to her husband's side, rubbing his back as she ran a hand through her hair. "It is about time you two returned home. I trust it was protected." Ziva rolled her eyes, as Rivka poured herself a cup and joined them.

" _Ken, Ima,_ it is _always_ protected. Because the good Lord forbid we should actually make you a grandchild." Her mother looked up, meeting her daughter's gaze.

"I very much want a grandchild, Zivaleh." She whispered, taking a sip. "I just want you both settled and out of Mossad permanently before you two start making babies for us to spoil."

"If we live to settle down." Tim whispered, taking a sip from his own mug. The others glanced at him. "Well, it's true. Ziva, Tali, Sarah and I will all be lucky if we live to see thirty, especially regarding our profession." Rivka stood, going to her youngest son.

"Mark my words; you two will live to see thirty. You will live to see fifty. And you will live to marry and give me many, _many_ grandchildren." She kissed Tim firmly on the forehead before doing the same to Ziva. Then, she turned, heading back to the bedroom. "I expect to have _lots_ of babies running through this house one day, _ahava. Mark my words_."

" _We have to get married first, Ima!_ " Tim replied. "Which will never happen because the religious leaders will never allow us to marry because Ziva is a Jew and I am a Gentile."

"You are an _Israeli_ , Timothy." Eli clarified. His son met his gaze.

"I am a _Catholic, Abba_." He finished the last of his coffee and stood, putting the mug in the sink and then pressing a kiss to Eli's cheek, as was custom before holding out a hand to Ziva. She took it, allowing him to pull her to her feet before leading her back to their room.


	43. Chapter 43

**Rifiuto: Non Mirena**

 _The Western Wall,_

 _Jerusalem,_

 _Israel_

 _2004_

Despite the continuous drone of prayers being recited, it was surprisingly quiet. He walked along the wall, trailing his fingers gently over the ancient stone, whispering prayers in both Gaelic and Hebrew, his fingers searching for any open space of which he could slip the folded scraps of paper he'd written on. Eventually, he stopped, slipped the notes into a crack, and then rested his forehead to the stone.

"I have lived almost twenty years in this land; this is my home, my life is here. And now You are allowing me to leave- not to return to a country I barely remember, but to go to a country I have only heard of. How is that fair, that I have to leave my family, leave the girl I love... I may be back in a year, but who is to say it will not turn into two or three by the time I finally come home?"

He took a deep breath.

The rabbi had told him when he asked, that God looked on all prayers- be they Catholic or Jewish- and accepted all of them. The soft prayers fell from his lips, and he quickly crossed himself, before finally moving away. His gaze traveled the length of the wall, his mind swimming with the words that resided within the notes he'd placed between the cracks of this holiest of relics.

 _Protect my family, keep them safe while I'm away. Watch over Sarah and Tali, try to keep them from killing each other, and give Zivaleh the strength to put up with whomever she's partnered with while I'm in America. Keep Ima and Abba in your sights and keep them from harm. Promise me that you will keep strong watch over my sisters- especially Sarah- and the girl I love; that Ziva knows and understands that I love her and will be thinking of her every moment of every day while I'm gone. In God's name, Amen._

When he returned to the car, Ziva was the first out, rushing to him. She threw her arms around his neck, burying her face in his shoulder, tears filling her eyes. She had spent the entire previous night unable to sleep, buried in his arms, crying, and Ziva hardly _ever_ cried. But now that he was actually leaving, that he was going to be boarding a plane in two hours...

 _"Do not go, Tim. I do not want you to go."_ He shook his head, holding her close.

"Shh, hush, Zivaleh. I will be back before you know it. And I will think of you every second of every moment of every day. I promise." He held her close, lifting her off her feet. But she just shook her head, shoulders beginning to shake. "Try not to kill your new partner while I'm gone, okay?"

 _"You... you are my only partner, Tim... you and... no one else... no matter who Abba puts me with... you are my partner... only you..."_

The drive back to the house in Tel Aviv was long and silent, filled with heartache and worry. As he moved his suitcases to the trunk of the car, Sarah joined her brother, removing the silver medallion with St. Christopher's effigy- the same one that matched her brother's and that their parents had slipped around their necks before they left Ireland sixteen years prior; she pressed it into his hand. "What's this?" He glanced at it, before meeting her gaze. "Sarah, this is yours- ye need it more than I-"

"You are the one _tha's_ going _t'_ be clear in _'merica. Ye'll_ need all _th'_ protection _ye_ can get."

"I can't take this, Sarah, Ma- they gave it _t' ye_."

" _An'_ they gave one _t' ye_ as well, Timmy. You are the one travelling right now." She swallowed, taking the medallion and slipping it around his neck before pulling something from her pocket and holding it out- four small, silver amulets hung on the chain. She rose onto her toes as her brother knelt down, slipping it over his head. "A Hamsa Hand to protect against and ward away evil, a Celtic knot with Brigid's cross _t'_ remind _ye o' yer_ faith, a Triskele amulet for balance, and a Green man-"

He pulled her into his arms, swaying gently with her as he used to when they were children. "I love it, Sarah." She held tight to him, burying her face in his chest. When he finally let go, she pressed a kiss to his cheek, stepping back to allow Tali to tell him goodbye. The youngest girl threw her arms around the young man who'd been her older brother from the moment they picked the siblings up at the airport, the young man who'd somehow made Ziva- _Ziva, of all people_ \- fall in love with him when they were still mere children, the young man who'd protected her like he protected Sarah, and loved her as much as though she were his own blood sibling.

"I am going to miss you, Tim." He held the younger girl close, kissing her forehead.

"Don't you dare let Michael go. He can be an ass sometimes, but he's a good man, and he's willing to put up with your mood swings." She swatted him lightly on the shoulder.

"I do not have mood swings-"

"Okay, fits of wild passion. Better?" She grinned, wrapping her arms around him again. "Just like your sister, only tamer." He pressed another kiss to her forehead. "Love you, Tali." When she finally pulled away, he turned to Ziva, who rushed towards him, tears slipping silently down her cheeks. "Oh Zivaleh, my love. Please, don't cry." She tightened her hold, burying her face in his shoulder. But it was when she pulled away that she slipped something around his neck. He lifted the leather string, studying the gold pendant- "The Fourth Pentacle of Venus." She smiled softly at him.

"To remember that our love is strong, and-" She took his hand, sliding a simple, silver band on his finger, within which sat a turquoise stone, the words, _Bikashti et sh'ahava nafshi_ or 'I sought him whom my soul loveth,' engraved in Hebrew around the band. Ziva swallowed. "Consider it a... a promise. That I will be here when you return." He pulled her close, kissing her deeply, tasting her, committing everything about her to memory. As he broke the kiss, he reached into his pocket, pulling something out and slipping it into her hand.

"Remember the four things I told you. And that I love you, Zivaleh, so much." He kissed her forehead before pulling away and going to Rivka. The woman who considered herself his mother wrapped her arms tight around him, holding him close.

" _Ani kol-kach ge-a,_ _becha._ So, _so_ proud of you, _ahava_." She pulled away, reaching up to caress his cheek. _"Ben, yafa shely."_ Tim pressed a kiss to her palm, before hugging her tightly again. She pressed a firm kiss to his cheek, choking back her tears. "You stay safe, you hear me? And you call as soon as you arrive. It does not matter how late it is here, we will pick up."

"I will, _Ima_. I promise." Eli gently squeezed Tim's shoulder.

"We had better get going, otherwise you will miss your flight, Timothy." Once in the car, Eli turned to the young man he and his wife had raised from the age of nine. Tim looked up at him.

"What? _Abba, mah karah?_ "

Eli shook his head. "Nothing is wrong, Timothy." He gently caught the younger man's chin in his hand. "I am proud of you, of the man you have become, my son." He then leaned over, pressing a kiss to the younger man's forehead. Tim blushed, the words echoing in his head long after he'd boarded the plane for America.

 _My son._


	44. Chapter 44

**Rifiuto: Non Mirena**

 _Tel Aviv,_

 _Israel_

She lay stretched out on the bed in her old room, studying the ring Tim had pressed into her hand before he left; she didn't exactly want to listen to the conversation taking place in the living room. One hand wandered down to rest over her stomach, and her heart clenched in ache.

 _I would gladly leave Mossad, if he had left a piece of himself within me._

She sniffled softly, reminding herself that such a thing was not going to happen, not until they were both ready and free of Mossad. As it currently stood, they were both far too immature to raise a child, despite the fact that they were living together on their own, and were doing fairly well at it. Though it was evident to both Tim and Ziva that Rivka desperately wanted grandbabies, she wasn't willing to allow them the chance to create them until they were fully settled and married- or, as Eli interpreted his wife- out of Mossad, permanently.

 _The problem is, Ima, you are lucky if you leave Mossad sans the body bag._

It was common knowledge in the agency that most agents didn't live to long- many were lucky to see thirty; those that lived past thirty were considered walking miracles. She and Tim-

Tim had turned twenty-five a week earlier, and she was barely twenty-three. The chances of either reaching thirty were slim to none in their profession; the chances they'd live long enough to resign or quit or get fired- which would never happen with Eli as director- and therefore marry, settle down and make babies, was next to impossible. If they didn't get captured, they'd end up killed, a typical ending for an agent or officer in their line of work.

A sigh escaped her throat as she ran her fingers over the ring again; studying the beautiful Celtic design. Two hands, clasping a heart with a crown atop it between them- a Claddagh ring, if she remembered Tim telling her once.

Love, loyalty and friendship.

Everything their relationship was about.

After a moment, she sat up, climbing off the bed and going to her bookshelf; it took a few minutes, before she found the book she wanted and returned, flipping it open and searching until she found what she wanted. A soft knock stopped her research, and she looked up as Tali poked her head in. "Hey, _at beseder_?" The older girl met her gaze, nodding silently.

"Missing Tim, but... other than that, _ken_ , I am okay, Tali."

The girl slipped into the room, joining her on the bed. "You heard _Abba_ today. It will only be for a year at most; besides, Tim will not change that much in a year, and he loves you, Ziva. He is going to come back and you are going to marry him and once you both leave Mossad, you are going to make beautiful, _beautiful_ babies together."

Ziva pulled away as her sister tried to continue stroking her hair. "Why is everyone so insistent that Tim and I _make babies_?" She wrapped her arms around herself. "With our professions, we may not even live to get engaged, let alone marry and start a family."

"You do not... want to have a family with Tim?" She looked up, meeting her sister's gaze.

"Of course I do, Tali. I want to have a baby with Tim so badly I..." She stopped. "But... Mossad officers do not get married, and they certainly do not start families because they do not live long enough to start them."

"Yuval Aviv was married and he had a daughter while he worked for Mossad during _Mivtza Za'am Ha'el_ after members of the Israeli Olympic team were massacred in Munich, and that was in the _seventies_. And _Abba_ \- he married _Ima_ when he was an agent and... he had us. He and _Ima_ took Tim and _Sarit_ in when he was still going out on missions. It _can_ be done, Ziva. Officers and agents _can_ get married and they _can_ have babies while still working in Mossad. Unless..." She met her sister's gaze. "You cannot... did you..."

" _No!_ Both Tim and I are clean! Besides, we have only been with each other. I just..." She sighed, laying back among the pillows. "I want a family so badly with Tim that I can taste it. But what if he is not back when the year is up? What if he is gone for two years, or three years? Or... forever? One day my chance to have children with him is going to end, and then what?"

" _Oh, Ziva! That is ridiculous!_ You are only twenty-three! When you are Tim's age, _then_ you can start worrying. And... if he does not come back by the end of his year in America, then..." The younger girl stopped, thinking. "I give you permission to hunt him down and lock him away in a bedroom and make as many babies as you can together." Her sister chuckled, reaching up and pulling her close. "Feel better?"

 _"Ken, toda, Tali."_

The sisters shared a quick kiss, before Tali got up, slipping out of the room. _"Al lo davar, Ziva. Khalomot metukim."_

 _"Gam lach."_ Once she was gone, Ziva sat up, turning her attention back to the book. She flipped through the book, until she found the page she was searching for on Claddagh rings.

" _'... handed down... in the way a Claddagh ring is worn with the intention of conveying relationship...'_ " She glanced at the ring her hand, Tim's words coming back to her.

 _Remember the four things I told you._

She turned her attention back to the book, glancing back and forth between the ring and the page as she read.

" _'On the right hand, point of the heart towards the fingertips, single and looking for love. On the right hand with the point of the heart towards wrist, in a relationship.'_ " She slid it on her right ring finger, turned the way it was described in the book. But the awkward position of the ring on her dominant hand forced her to remove it. " _'On the left hand, point towards wrist, married.'_ " She glanced at the ring again. "And _'on the left hand, point towards fingertips, engaged.'_ Huh." She studied the ring for several minutes, before slipping it onto her left ring finger, the tip towards her nails. Yes, that definitely felt better.

As she put the book back and slipped under the covers, pressing a kiss to the ring, she had no idea of the chaos such a simple action would unleash within her family.


	45. Chapter 45

**Rifiuto: Non Mirena**

 **Thanks to Reader aka Sun Samurai for reviewing 42, 43 and 44.**

 _Washington, D.C.,_

 _United States_

 _2004_

"Send him in, Cynthia, please."

Within minutes, the door opened and a young man slipped inside, shutting the door behind him. She looked up, her hazel gaze instantly recognizing the young man in front of her. It had been years since John had shown her the photographs, but those eyes... those eyes were unmistakable.

"Officer McGee." He held out his hand.

" _'tis_ a pleasure _t'_ meet _ye, Direct'r_ Shepard."

She smiled softly, recognizing the familiar lilt his father possessed. "I trust your flight was pleasant."

"As pleasant as it _canna_ be, Ma'am." He replied, as she gestured to the chairs across from her desk. Once seated, she asked,

"I understand you still live in Israel." He furrowed a brow. "I am a friend of your fa-" She stopped, seeing something flash in the young man's green eyes. "of John McGee's. He is the one who told me of what was going on in Ireland at the time, and asked if I could help pull some strings to get you and your sister out. I was able to get a hold of Leon Vance, who is a friend of Eli _Da_ vid's. He was able to get in contact with Eli and his wife."

Tim nodded. "They raised my sister _an'_ I... Eli and Rivka are... my parents, _Direct'r_. In every way _tha'_ matters."

She smiled softly. "Leon has... only good things to say about Eli and Rivka. He also had good things to say about you as well; you have done amazing things in Mossad, Officer McGee."

"Tim, please."

"Very well, Tim." She turned her gaze back to his file, flipping it open and quickly skimming over it. "You have extensive knowledge of firearms and various forms of hand-to-hand combat. You're also proficient in undercover work and interrogation-"

"Mossad employs a number of ways in which to obtain information. Not quite torture, but we are willing to go that far if need be to get the information we need, as _Abba_ says." He blushed, shaking his head in embarrassment. " _I'ma_ sorry _Direct'r_ Shepard. I meant... as _Direct'r Dav'd_ says."

Jenny chuckled. "No need to apologize, Tim. Eli _Da_ vid is not just your director, he's your father. Whatever is comfortable for you." She watched him reach up, fingers tangling in the necklaces he wore around his throat. Amulets, gifts from his family, were she to make a guess; but it was the ring he wore that caught her attention most. "I understand you are quite close to Eli's oldest daughter, Ziva. One might say... romantically involved, even." He met her gaze, color creeping into his cheeks.

"Ziva and I... we may have grown up together, but... there has never been sibling love between us. We... Zivaleh and I... we're two halves of the same soul, you could say. Bound together permanently by love." He chuckled softly, glancing at the ring she'd slipped on his finger. "I plan to marry her someday, despite what the Jewish laws say about mixed marriages. I may be Irish by birth, but I'm Israeli by naturalization. Zivaleh and I have just as much right to marry as anyone else." He sighed, resting his elbow on the arm of the chair and placing his chin in his hand. Jenny smiled softly, seeing relaxation come over the young man as he told her of the girl he'd been forced to leave behind, the girl he was going to have a family with some day.

 _Wistful, whimsical, and completely in love, just as Eli said he was._

"... why when _th'_ year is up, I'm _gonna_ go back _t'_ _Isr'el an'_ ask her _t'_ marry me. _Aft'r_ I ask _f'r Abba an' Ima_ 's _blessin', o'_ course. I _wanna_ do things _righ'_ ; Zivaleh says it doesn't _matt'r_ if we _ge'_ their _blessin', bu'_ it does _t'_ me."

"Well, it's honorable, Tim, that you want Eli and Rivka's blessing."

He shrugged, before sitting up. "If _ye_ don't mind me asking, _Direct'r_ , exactly where is _th'_ team I'm _goin' t'_ be _workin'_ with?" As Jenny moved to retrieve the files on her desk, Tim held up a hand. "I know who they are, _Direct'r_ ," He licked his lips. " _Abba 'ad_ me do dossiers on each _o' 'em_ , sos I'd _ge'_ a _bett'r und'rstandin' o'_ who I'm _t'_ be _workin' wit'_."

"The MCRT should be back by now, Tim." As they stood, she held out a hand. "I'm grateful Eli agreed to such a position. Our agencies have worked apart for far too long. It's about time we learned to work together. Come on." She led him out of the office towards the catwalk railing. Two agents were gathered around a plasma screen, studying something. Tim glanced at Jenny, surprised to find himself the topic of their conversation.

"Woah. When it said he was coming from Israel, I thought- but he's white-"

"It says he's a naturalized Israeli citizen, Abby."

"Which _means_?"

"He wasn't _born_ in Israel. He was _born_ in Ireland, and at some point, he obtained his Israeli citizenship. Too bad I can't find a photograph."

"Maybe he doesn't like his picture taken." The other woman, Agent Kate Todd, rolled her eyes.

"Very mature, Scuito."

Tim glanced at Jenny, who leaned close. "Abigail Scuito and Caitlan Todd. Agent DiNozzo accepted a position in Rota, Spain." He nodded in understanding. When they turned back, Agent Todd had gone down to the break room for a cup of coffee, leaving the other woman alone in the bullpen. "Agent Gibbs should be back soon."

"Do you mind if I make a quick phone call?"

"Go right ahead." With a soft thank you, he slipped away, hurrying down the stairs and out of the building unseen. Jenny chuckled. She couldn't wait to see the fireworks when Gibbs finally met Tim.


	46. Chapter 46

**Rifiuto: Non Mirena**

 **A/N: Remember, this is AU.- Licia**

The bullpen was quiet; Kate had disappeared to the break room, Gibbs was out getting coffee, and the new liaison officer had yet to show up. She sighed, flipping through the magazine she'd removed from her desk, not even looking up as the elevator dinged open, expecting it to be Gibbs.

"Where is Special Agent Gibbs?"

She stopped reading and looked up, eyes going wide at the sight of the young man standing in the entrance to the bullpen. "Um... can I... help you?"

He scoffed gently. "I'm here to see Special Agent Gibbs."

"How do you know _I'm_ not Gibbs?" He raised an eyebrow, green eyes sparking as he made his way towards her, pulling a badge out of the pocket of his cargo pants. That green gaze quickly flicked over her.

" _You?_ Agent Gibbs? I highly doubt it." He held the badge out. "Officer McGee, Mossad."

Her eyebrows rose. " _You're_ Officer McGee? The liaison Mossad sent over?"

He chuckled, looking around as he slipped the badge back into his pocket."I'm impressed _ye_ were able _t'_ make _tha'_ connection _wit'_ Mossad." He dropped his things by the desk across from hers, taking a seat and sitting back.

"You don't sound Israeli."

"An' ye don' sound Southern, Agent Scuito."

"How do you-"

" _Ye_ were born in New Orleans; both _yer_ parents are deaf. _Ye_ originally went _int'_ forensic science in college, _b'fore th'_ workload _go' t'_ be too much _an' ye_ switched to... Bio-medical engineering and Computing forensics- one of which you received at John Hopkins and the other at MIT." Her eyes widened.

"How do you know that?"

"Like _I'ma gonna_ tell _ye_. Now Special Agent Gibbs?"

"Isn't _here yet,_ Officer McGee."

"Here, Abby, I got you-" Both turned as another woman entered the bullpen, carrying two cups of coffee. "Um... Abby, who's this?"

But before the other woman could open her mouth, he stood, pulling his badge out of his pocket. "Timothy McGee, Mossad. I'm _th'... liaison_ officer _Direct'r Dav'd_ sent over." She glanced at him, startled by his wide green eyes. "Now if either of you could please tell me when Gibbs will be back-"

"Okay, wait, hold on." Kate quickly set both cups on Abby's desk and hurried to him. " _You're_ the Mossad officer that's going to be working with us?" Tim nodded, returning to the chair. "But you're-" He raised an eyebrow. "You know, not-"

"Israeli?" He offered. She nodded. " _No'_ by birth."

"So... what? You were... adopted?" He snorted, leaning back in the chair.

"No. I'm _no'_ adopted. _Bu'_ if _ye mus'_ know, Agent Todd, _'twas_ born in _Belfas', an_ ' raised in Tel Aviv."

"By who?" He smirked, green gaze moving over her form quickly.

" _Wou'dn' ye_ like _t'_ know." He took a deep breath. _"Gibbs."_

"Is not back yet, Officer McGee." Abby replied, getting up and going to him. "Now, you can either sit there and... slouch provocatively all you want..." She met his gaze. Or you can tell us what you need, and we can try and help." Tim clicked his tongue, shaking his head.

"Sorry. Can't."

An hour later, Gibbs returned, stopping in the entrance to the bullpen as his gaze landed on the younger man occupying Tony DiNozzo's old desk. Tim shot up out of the chair, making his way to the older man. "Special Agent Gibbs, I'm Officer McGee. I look forward _t' bein'_ a part _o' yer_ team." The older man shook hands, silent.

"Ah, Agent Gibbs, I see you've met our new liaison." The four turned as Jenny made her way down the stairs towards them. "Officer McGee." She went to him. _"Shalom."_

The three watched in silence as Tim kissed her on each cheek, as was customary greeting not only in Europe, but also in the Middle East- or, at least in Israel, when reuniting with good friends. And as far as Tim was concerned, Jenny had been instrumental in saving both his and Sarah's lives sixteen years ago, and he owed her a debt he might not be able to fully repay, but was willing to try; it hadn't been until he'd left the building to call Eli that he'd realized exactly who Jenny was and why she seemed so familiar to him. He'd sat in on more than one conference call between _Abba_ and Jenny, but hadn't realized the substantial role she'd played in his life and the lives of his family. " _Shalom_ , Jenny."

"Ah, Agent Gibbs, have you met your new liaison?" The three agents studied the two, dumbfounded.

"He can't be Mossad, he was born in Belfast, Ireland." Kate replied, struggling to make sense of the young man before them. He was tall, slender, well-built, with dark red hair and soft, tan skin, but those green eyes-

"I was _raised_ in Tel Aviv, Agent Todd." Tim replied, reaching up to absentmindedly play with one of the pendants around his neck. She nodded.

"Of course, you said I just... wasn't listening, I guess." Meanwhile, Gibbs studied the younger man; from what little they knew of him, Gibbs wasn't sure he'd be a good fit for the team.

Arrogant beyond measure, most likely. Cocky, definitely. Just because he worked for Mossad didn't mean he'd be able to work for NCIS; there were an entirely different set of skills applied, skills this kid probably didn't have. And from what he'd gathered, this kid was a member of _Kidon- Komemiute, Metsada_ , whatever you called it- a killer. Trained to spy and kill; he didn't belong at NCIS, he belonged at the CIA. And while all agents were killers at one point because they had to be if lives were threatened and there was no way to take the suspects alive, they didn't make a living off of it- didn't do it for the thrill of holding someone else's life in their hands, like some officers and agents were known to do.

Like those working in Mossad were trained to do.

He turned to Jenny, his old flame, who was talking softly with the younger man. "Mossad trained him to spy and kill, Director. I don't want a trained killer on my team. Send him to the CIA."

With that, he turned, heading for his desk, when Jenny's voice stopped him in his tracks. "That's not going to happen, Gibbs. This liaison position was set up specifically between NCIS and Mossad, by the Deputy Director himself."

He turned back to them. "And who is the deputy director?" But it was Tim who spoke up, hands in his pockets. He chuckled dryly, reaching up to play with one of the medallions- a Saint Christopher one- around his neck.

"Deputy Director Elijah David." Slowly, his green eyes met Gibbs's, the words sending chills down the older man's spine as a touch of heartache filled his voice, as Eli's words, filled with pride, came back to him.

 _My son._

"My _father_."


	47. Chapter 47

**Rifiuto: Non Mirena**

 **Thanks to Reader aka Sun Samurai for reviewing 45 and 46.**

" _You're_ the Deputy Director's _son_?" Abby asked, eyes wide. Tim shrugged, glancing at Jenny.

 _If they only knew..._

"In a sense. He raised my sister and I, and I've been in a relationship with his oldest daughter since we were teenagers."

Silence filled the bullpen- of which was quickly broken by the ringing of a phone. Tim pulled his cell from his pocket, checking the ID. A quick smile flitted briefly across his face. "Excuse me." He slipped away, leaving Jenny facing the other agents of the MCRT. _"Shalom."_

"I have glowing reviews from several other agents at Mossad that he's worked with. He's top of his class, so to speak. He's one of the top agents in Mossad, you're lucky to have him on your team. Besides, we need this alliance if we're going to fight this global war on terror. Timothy is quite good at what he does, Agent Gibbs. When I asked Director _Da_ vid for the best of his agents, he offered Tim. He is the _best_ Eli has; we are lucky to have him on our side. Now you _are going_ to make this work, because I would hate to have to call Eli and inform him that his son is going to have to return to Israel because the MCRT refused to work with their liaison officer..." She shrugged. "Well, you'll have to incur Eli's wrath."

Having made her point, Jenny turned, heading up to her office. She stopped, however, hearing the familiar lilt of Hebrew not far away, and glanced over the railing to find Tim leaning against the wall, holding the phone to his ear. "... _ken. Ani rotseh lenashek lakh_... I do, deeply." He sighed, reaching up to play with one of the pendants. _"Ani mitga'a'ge'a lach... Zivaleh, ani ohev otach..."_ A small smile graced his lips. _"Shalom."_

After hanging up, he slipped the phone back into his pocket, glancing towards the stairs. He and Jenny locked eyes, and she smiled softly. "Go home, Tim. It's been a long day; get some rest. You can start tomorrow."

By the time he got back to his apartment, he was eager to call her back- or even better, put her on Skype- and spend the rest of the night chatting with her. But he knew she'd be at work by now, and the hours spent on the plane were starting to get to him. After locking the door and toeing off his shoes, he made his way to the bathroom and quickly started the shower. The warmth of the water soon began pelting his back, and he sighed, mentally ticking the day off in his head. If only he were back home, in the heat of Israel, with his family-

When he'd stepped off the plane at Dulles, he'd been shocked by the mere sight of _rain_. There was no such thing in Israel, just as there was no such thing as spring; it was a desert, in the driest, starkest sense of the word. The shock in Ziva's voice when he'd told her of the rainstorm he'd flown into matched the shock he himself had felt. Though they'd been all over the world on missions, _nothing_ compared to a D.C., thunderstorm.

After getting out of the shower and drying off, he changed into his pajamas and climbed into bed, expecting to feel her arms slide around him from behind. _Zivaleh's back in in Israel, remember? You won't see her for another year, at least._

He sighed, shifting onto his back to stare at the ceiling. The ring he wore sparked in the darkness, and he removed it, studying the detail. It was truly beautiful, despite it's simple design. _I will be here when you return._ He chuckled. "I know, _Zivaleh_ , you _dinna 'ave t'_ tell me." As he slid the ring back onto his hand, he closed his eyes, taking a deep breath, forcing himself to relax in order to get some sleep.

Releasing a soft breath, he fixated on her voice, the feel of her skin, the smell of her hair, the taste of her mouth... her laugh and how she would giggle when he hit a particularly sensitive spot during foreplay... how she always insisted on playing with him after he got done playing with her, and how the nights she went to bed completely nude were often the wildest and most passionate evenings they would share.

 _God, I even miss her incessant, drunken snoring..._

Ziva, of course, would always argue that she didn't snore, though everyone in the family disagreed; Ziva snored, uncontrollably and loudly, and how Tim managed to put up with it was beyond understanding. Neither Tali nor Sarah could handle it longer than five, maybe ten minutes at most. But Tim- he loved her, even if she did sound like a drunken sailor with emphysema.

A moment passed before he tucked his arms beneath his head, gaze going momentarily to the ceiling before his eyes closed again. He could feel the cool metal of the ring Ziva'd given him, and thought back to the Claddagh ring he'd slipped into her hand before leaving. He'd explained, long ago, the four meanings of the ring and it's positions on the hand, and only hoped that Ziva had understood, and hadn't done anything stupid. Though she was smart, she did have a tendency for stupid in moments of irrationality.

But then again, Ziva was known for killing first, and asking questions later, so.

Finally, after two hours, he was able to fully fall asleep; though he woke up at three, expecting to feel her arms around him, her head on his chest, of which he was sorely disappointed. Quickly dressing in his running gear, he slipped out of the apartment, off to find a good running trail in Georgetown, wishing, for all the world, that he were back in Israel, wrapped in Ziva's arms.


	48. Chapter 48

**Rifiuto: Non Mirena**

 **A/N: Hey guys, I'm so sorry. Life got in the way, and Zani's return to resisting all help isn't making it any easier. For the next few weeks, I'll update her stories when I can.- Licia**

 **Thanks to Reader aka Sun Samurai and ravenx1988 for reviewing 47.**

 _Tel Aviv,_

 _Israel_

 _2004_

 _"Boker Tov._ "

Sarah looked up, bringing her mug to her lips as Ziva entered, pouring herself a cup of coffee. " _Bok- oh my God_." She quickly set the mug down and crossed herself, rushing to the older woman. Ziva turned, startled by such a reaction.

"What? _Sarit,_ what is it?"

"When did he ask, Ziva?" The older girl furrowed a brow.

"Who ask what?"

The youngest McGee sibling tugged on her hand, studying the ring. "My _brother_! When did he ask you?" At Ziva's blank look, she clarified, " _To marry him!_ "

"Marry him?"

Sarah nodded, showing her the ring. A moment passed before Ziva realized what she meant. "Oh, no, Sarah, Tim did not ask-"

"Tim did ask what?" Both women turned as Tali joined them, quickly drying her hair with a towel.

"Asked Ziva to marry him." Sarah replied, as Tali buried her face in the towel, muffling a squeal of delight.

 _"What?"_

" _No!_ No, Tali, Sarah... Tim did not ask me-"

"Oh! You know, I bet it was yesterday when he kissed her goodbye!" Tali cut in with a giggle. "Oh, Ziva, this is _wonderful! Mazal Tov!_ " She accepted her sister's hug, too stunned for words.

"Why exactly are we congratulating your sister?" The three turned as Eli and Rivka entered the kitchen; it was the weekend, and Rivka had dressed in a pair of jeans and tank; she pulled one of her husband's shirts on over her small frame, leaving it hanging open. Her hair was caught up in a loose bun, and there was one long tendril that she'd missed; it hung down the right side of her face, curling just beneath her chin. Eli, meanwhile, was in a pair of worn jeans and a button-down shirt; on the weekends, he wasn't so much the director of a deadly intelligence agency, but the father of five beautiful, fiercely independence, loving, energetic children- whether they were adults or not.

And now, with his two sons- one biological, the other not- both out and on their own in entirely separate countries, that left only his daughters at home- even though Ziva shared an apartment with Tim and Sarah had just moved in with Malachi- leaving only Tali under her parents' roof now.

"Timmy proposed to Ziva yesterday, _Abba_ , and she said yes!" Sarah cried, bouncing on the balls of her feet. Eli's head snapped up, and he joined his daughters, Rivka following, intrigued.

"That does not sound like Timothy to ask without getting our blessing first." Tali rolled her eyes.

"Maybe he has finally figured out that he does not need your blessing for everything, _Abba_. He _does love Ziva_ , after all. That should be enough without yours and _Ima_ 's blessings."

"Ziva, is it true?" The younger woman met her mother's gaze and bit her lip. She shrugged. And though Rivka was skeptical, she took he daughter's hand, studying the ring.

"If a woman wears it the way Ziva is, that means she's engaged, _Ima._ " Sarah clarified. The Israeli didn't say anything, she just met her daughter's gaze. It was clear that the truth was desperate to escape.

"Girls, can you give us a moment? I need to talk to Ziva." Minutes passed, and slowly, Tali did as Rivka asked, slipping out of the kitchen, though Sarah remained, a sly grin on her pretty, Irish features; for a brief moment, Ziva believed her little surrogate sister to be one of the mythical fairies of Ireland she had read so much about- willing to play mischief in exchange for something of value in return. _"Sarit, axshav!"_

After a moment, Sarah left, Eli's hand on her shoulder, glancing quickly over back at the two. Once she was gone, Rivka turned back to her oldest daughter. Silently, she took the girl's hand, studying the ring. "So... my oldest daughter is engaged to be married." Dark eyes moved up to lock onto her daughter's face. "Is there anything else I should know, Zivaleh?" She reached out, brushing her fingers against her daughter's stomach; Ziva quickly backed away, tugging gently out of her mother's grasp. "Are you hiding a little surprise, nestled comfortably within you? My first grandchild, perhaps?"

 _"Dai, Ima!"_ Rivka caught her daughter's wrist again, pulling her close, a soft chuckle escaping her throat.

"Am I finally going to be holding my first grandson within my arms in nine months?"

" _Ima! Stop! No! There is no baby_!" Though a tiny smile flitted across Ziva's features, her eyes held only sadness at being separated from Tim. She shook her head, tears slipping down her cheeks. "There is no... engagement. I just... did not wish to be..." She sighed. "I want him _home, Ima_. I want _Abba_ to call Tim home. I want him home... in my arms..."

"Oh, Zivaleh." She pulled the girl into her arms, holding her close. The younger woman wrapped her arms around her mother's shoulders, burying her face in the soft, dark curls. "I know, I know. I want Timothy home, too. And so does _Abba_. Believe me, he does."

"Then why did he send him away?" Ziva demanded, choking on a sob. Her mother sighed, stroking her back.

"Because _Abba_ had a job for him to do."

" _Abba always_ has a job for us to do. He is never _Abba_ anymore, he is our _Director!_ We are not his agents when we are home, we are his _children_! Tim is... _his child..._ " She burrowed into her mother's embrace. _"Can he not see that?"_

Rivka glanced behind her; Eli watched from the doorway. It was evident, the anguish Ziva was in was causing the director to war within himself. "He sees it, Zivaleh. Trust me, he sees it."

 _And he knows it enough to understand that it is tearing his family apart._


	49. Chapter 49

**Rifiuto: Non Miren** **a**

 **A/N: I'm so sorry this is updated so late, but between life and... well, life, I've had no time for either writing or uploading. Hopefully I'll get back to that on a regular basis soon though.- Licia**

 **Thanks to Reader aka Sun Samurai and ravenx1988 for reviewing 48.**

 _Washington, D.C.,_

 _United States_

 _2004_

Gibbs stopped, studying the desk that sat beside his and across from Abby's.

In the few short months since Officer McGee had been assigned to Gibbs's team, he'd quickly taken possession of the desk directly across from Agent Scuito and next to Gibbs- a fact that irked the silver-haired man to no end- and almost seemed to be making a mockery out of the fact that Gibbs's Senior Agent was no longer there. Sure, the kid was smart- brilliant, in fact- trained in a variety of methods, from torture to interrogation and everything in between- but he was still a killer.

And Gibbs didn't take kindly to killers, even trained ones.

"Something you need, Boss?" The older man turned, surprised to find Tim behind him, a cup of coffee in his hands; he'd been so lost in thought, he hadn't heard the elevator open. Gibbs studied him for a moment, before moving away and watching as the younger man took a seat. "How did you end up in Israel, Tim? You were born in Ireland-"

The younger man's gaze misted over; he took a deep breath, whispering with a shrug,

" _'Pain in the present is experienced as hurt, pain in the past is remembered as anger.'_ "

Gibbs furrowed a brow. "I'm sor-"

But Tim waved it away. " _'tis... somethin'_ I _rememb'r_ Mr. McGee _sayin'_ when I was a child." He met his boss's gaze. " _Doesn' matt'r_." He looked up at the other man, before quickly logging onto his computer. The team leader watched him for several minutes, before deciding to let it go; he slipped out of the bullpen, heading for coffee. Once gone, Tim relaxed, sitting back in his chair and taking a deep breath. He hated thinking of Ireland, of the couple who'd abandoned them- and yet, given them a better family, a better life, than they would have had had they stayed on the Emerald Isle. Tim's green gaze misted over again, and he shook his head, quickly blinking the tears away. When he'd learned of John McGee's passing from cancer...

"Morning, Tim."

He looked up as Kate entered, making her way to her desk across from Gibbs's. " _Mornin'_ , Todd." For some reason, Kate just didn't seem to fit the petite, dark-haired, almost-Puritanical former Secret Service agent that sat diagonally across from him in the bullpen. It was much easier for him to think of her by her last name; especially since he would only be in America for a year, so it was best not to get attached. He glanced at the small calendar sitting on his desk- a year simply couldn't come fast enough.

He hadn't spoken to Ziva in weeks, hadn't talked to _Ima_ or Tali or Sarah even; the only time he talked to _Abba_ was when it was a conference call, and there were always others in the room, so he couldn't ask how the girls were doing or if Ziva had killed another partner. Sighing softly, he reached up, grabbing the chain around his neck. "I want nothing more than to be home, wrapped in your arms." The ring he wore glimmered in the dim light, and he swallowed. "When I get back, I'm going to ask you to marry me-"

"You okay, Officer McGee?" He looked up, meeting Kate's eyes. With a forced smile, he nodded, before quickly ducking his head to finish his work.

"I'm fine, Agent Todd. And you?" Kate shrugged.

"I'm doing all right." They sat in silence for several minutes before Kate finally stood, moving over and perching on the edge of his desk. "Officer McGee." Tim glanced up at her. "How exactly _did_ you end up in Israel? It's not common for those of Irish decent to-"

"We had no choice. Sarah and I had to flee. We probably would have been killed otherwise." Tim whispered, glancing at the photograph on his desk of him and his siblings; taken after his and Sarah's citizenship ceremony, the family had gone out to eat at a nice local restaurant- and one of the waitresses had taken the photograph. Ziva had curled into Tim's side, his arm tight around her waist, and Sarah was sitting beside Eli, who beamed at the camera- a father, proud of his children for having officially gained their citizenship, for having made their own decisions in regards to their lives and loves.

A moment passed, as the words penetrated Kate's mind, before her eyes widened. Her tone was soft, filled with heartbreaking awe. "You're... home-children?"

"What are home children?" The pair looked up as Abby joined them in the bullpen, dropping her things at her desk, brow furrowing at the odd turn of phrase she'd walked in on. Kate glanced at Tim, who ducked his head and returned to his work; the former Secret Service Agent turned back to her partner.

"Home-children are children sent away from... from their families to escape..." She glanced at Tim, who kept silent. "to escape violence and... and start over with new families until... until their parents send for them to come home." Abby nodded slowly in understanding, though clearly, she didn't get it.

"Except our parents never sent for us." His whisper was soft, and behind the strength, Kate caught a hint of sadness. "Because Mr. McGee was in prison for something he didn't do."

"Which means?" Abby asked, still clueless.

"You don't look at the McGees as your parents." Kate whispered. Tim scoffed gently at her realization and looked up at her- something he'd accepted long ago.

"Why would I, Todd? They didn't raise me. Didn't love me or Sarah like real parents do." He responded, with malice. "Yes, they created us, brought us into the world, but _that's it_. Eli and Rivka _Da_ vid raised us." He glanced at the photograph on his desk. "Thought of us as their children from the moment we stepped off the plane in Tel Aviv. Sarah and I have never gone for or been in want of anything, thanks to them. They gave us all we ever asked for- which wasn't much- and more we didn't necessarily need. Because they loved us."

Abby glanced between the two. "So... you and your sister _aren't_ related to the Davids?"

Tim met her gaze. "It's pronounced _Da_ vid. _An'_ no, Sarah _an'_ I are _no'_ related _t'_ them. _Bu'_ they're family. Blood does _no'_ matter in regards _t'_ family, _an'_ the _Da_ vids are mine."


	50. Chapter 50

**Rifiuto: Non Miren** **a**

 **Thanks to Reader aka Sun Samurai and hellfire45 for reviewing 49.**

 _Would you have noticed? When I stopped running?_

He rubbed his thumb against the soft material of the orange watch cap. At first, he'd said. But then, eventually not. The hurt in her eyes had increased tenfold as she'd then whispered,

 _I'm sorry, Tim, that we never got to run together._

A soft sigh escaped his throat, as he gently brought the cap to his nose. His heart constricted, as the realization that the woman who could have become a great friend- the woman he'd passed every morning on the Arlington Street Bridge during his run- was gone, dead of radiation poisoning. Her scent filled his senses, that familiar, beautiful smell that all women possessed. "I will not forget you now, Delilah."

"You're in love with a dead woman, aren't you, Tim?" He opened the drawer of his desk and slipped the watch cap into the drawer, closing it silently.

"That is ridiculous. I have a girlfriend-"

"Who's millions of miles away, in another country." She moved around his desk until she stood behind him. "Come on, you liked Lt. Fielding, didn't you, Tim?"

"Why is this so important to you? I love Ziva; I have _always_ loved Ziva." He met her gaze. " And some day, very soon, Zivaleh is going to be my wife and the mother of my children, and Lt. Fielding will be nothing more than a passing glance in a dossier of cases I worked at NCIS."

"You don't have to hide everything behind that mask Mossad gives you, you know."

Silence filled the space, and after a moment, Tim shifted. "Perhaps you are right, Abby. I should give into my urges."

One black eyebrow rose. "And... what might those be?" She watched as he slid one hand around her wrist and up her arm to grasp at her forearm.

"Letting loose, of course! Doing what comes... _naturally_ to me."

Abby chuckled softly. "I thought I was picking up that vibe the night we went undercover." Tim suppressed the urge to roll his eyes. That one undercover assignment had nearly cost him Ziva- because when she'd found out, the petite Israeli beauty had blown a gasket. _Abba_ 's office had barely survived, and Ziva had made personal threats to kill Abby, and had even threatened to kill him if he'd slept with the female agent.

Safe to say, Ziva hadn't taken too kindly to learning that he had female coworkers.

"You were?" He played it calm, keeping his responses even, despite the fact that her blatant desire for him made him sick. A soft laugh escaped his throat. "You know, to be honest, I nearly did it in the hotel room that first night."

"Really?" She leaned her head closer, and Tim nodded, biting his lip.

"But sadly, _Abba_ would not approve."

Abby furrowed a brow. "Because I'm not Jewish? Or... Catholic? Or... wasn't raised in Israel, like you?"

Tim laughed this time, tugging her closer, until they were nose-to-nose. "Because he gets very angry when I _kill_ a co-worker."

He then smacked her lightly on the cheek before releasing her. Abby stumbled back in time for Kate and Gibbs to catch the tail end of the conversation. "There's no need to be so violent, Officer McGee." Kate chided playfully, even though Kate even felt that Abby was finally getting back a little of the treatment she'd been giving Tim since he joined the team. Abby, hurt in more ways than one, scurried back to her desk with a pout on her face.

Tim, however, didn't look up. If anything, he seemed to stare through his computer into a time that was a part of him- a part he no longer remembered. When he spoke, his voice was deadpan, as though he'd witnessed it across the ocean as opposed to being there firsthand."Violent? That _wasn'_ violent. It was violent, in Ireland. I barely _rememb'r_ it. Both my sister _an'_ I were far _t'_ young _t' rememb'r_ it."

"You always remember violence, whether you mean to or not, Tim."

The officer met Gibbs's gaze. "Even _a'_ barely nine, Gibbs?"

The former Marine grunted. "I'm going for coffee." And without another word, Gibbs stood, striding out of the bullpen. He didn't get very far, though, when Abby's voice broke the calm; finally over the light smack she'd received from Tim, she now took it upon herself to make the young officer miserable for hurting her in such a way- both physically and emotionally, because rejection was Abby's biggest fear.

"Get anymore phone calls from _Daddy_ , Officer McGee?" The silver-haired man cringed. Ever since Tony's transfer to Rota, Abby had seen fit to take on the senior agent's teasing tone. And ever since Tim had been assigned to the team, that 'teasing' had bounced between just that and down-right cruel. Gibbs had tried to reign her in- because there were days she even got to _him_ \- to no avail. Tim just happened to be her newest and latest target. "Does your sister also work with an agency? Is your father as _generous_ in that regard, too?"

Gibbs cringed as he turned back, making his way silently towards the bullpen, sticking to the shadows. Tim showed no emotion as he spoke, ignoring the hurt woman, his emerald eyes seemed to glaze over as he recalled something- something deeper, more painful.

"I was... nine... barely. My cousin Lydia was supposed to be _watchin'_ me. Sarah was playing at a friend's. Anyway... Lydia, she... she blindfolded me _an'_ took me outside... sat me down, and then told me _tha'_ I had to find my way home. When I took the blindfold off, I was in a cemetery, miles from the _'ouse_... it took me all night _an'_ into the next _mornin'_... I _go'_ lost... _go'_... caught in a bomb blast... next thing I remember is... _wakin'_ up in hospital _an'_ hearing Mrs. McGee screaming... I had a bandage on my cheek..." He reached up, brushing his thumb against the skin. "I'd... cut up my cheek pretty badly... Sarah _an'_ I... we left Ireland a few weeks later, never returned."

When he looked up, the bullpen was silent, and it was then, as he reached up, that he realized he'd started to cry.


	51. Chapter 51

**Rifiuto: Non Miren** **a**

 **Thanks to Reader aka Sun Samurai for reviewing 50.**

 _Tel Aviv,_

 _Israel,_

 _2005_

The new year had come and gone, and Ziva was meticulously counting down the days until Tim returned. She had also had to deal with multiple questions in regards to the ring she continued to wear on her finger- many of the other agents knew of Tim and Sarah's origins, and so knew the traditions of the Irish, and preceded to pester the oldest _Da_ vid daughter- which resulted in many confrontations between her and several other agents.

"If you and Tim are not engaged, then why do you wear that ring?" Ziva rolled her eyes, keeping her thoughts to herself as she and Tali sat having a cup of coffee with Liat in the cafe on the first floor of Mossad's headquarters. The sisters shared a glance; Liat Tuvia was six years younger than Ziva and four years younger than Sarah, and two younger than Tali. A new recruit, personally handpicked by Eli to be part of the Kidon unit to fill the void left by Tim when he was assigned to NCIS in America, the agent was everything Eli and Rivka's daughters despised.

Brilliant, fascinated by everything American, blonde.

And also Ziva's new partner- well, until Tim returned.

"Because this reminds me that Tim will come home soon." Ziva replied, casting a glance Tali's way; the younger woman rolled her eyes.

 _You may have been handpicked by Abba to fill Tim's position until he returns, but that is all. You have no experience nor sway in this agency. Not like we do. Tim has more power in this agency than you can ever hope to have; he is practically Abba's second-in-command. All four of us, actually, have more power than you can ever hope to have._

Liat furrowed a brow. "I do not under-"

Footsteps caused all three to look up, and Sarah rushed towards them, Malachi following. _"Abba_ asked me to come get you both. He said it's urgent, but would not say what." Without a word, the sisters sprang to their feet, following the Irish beauty up to Eli's office. Once inside the room, Ziva rushed to her father, unable to control himself.

"Is Tim-" But the look on her father's face caused her pause, and she stopped. " _Abba_ , what is wrong?"

Eli beckoned for the girls to sit, and moved around his desk, perching on the edge. "I just received a call from your aunt in Amman."

"What did Aunt Adara want, _Abba_?" Tali asked, confused. Eli swallowed. Adara was Rivka's youngest sister; the more artistic of the three Eschel-Weisel daughters- the middle daughter, Keshet, had long since moved away to Jerusalem where she worked as a florist- Adara made her living as a tour guide in Amman, and Rivka had gone up to visit her.

"There was a bombing at the opera house."

"The..." Tali swallowed, grabbing Sarah and Ziva's hands and squeezing. " _Ima_ and... and Aunt Adara _always_ go to the opera, it... it is _tradition_..."

"Is _Ima_ okay, _Abba_?" Sarah asked, tightening her hold on Tali's hand. Adara had been the only of of Rivka and Eli's family to object to them taking Tim and Sarah in- simply because it was impossible to know if they could really 'trust foreigners', as Adara had said. That her sister disapproved on spurred Rivka on; over the years, however, Adara had come to see how deeply Rivka and Eli cared for the McGee siblings, and had begun to think of both Tim and Sarah as her niece and nephew. "And-"

Quickly, Eli went to his girls, pulling them all close. "They are okay, both of them. I have already informed Keshet that they are all right. Injured and shaking, but alive. They are on their way back-"

"Back?" Ziva asked, pulling away. "But Auntie lives in-"

"She wanted to make sure _Ima_ returned safely. Keshet is coming down also-" But before he could finish, the door opened. Tali was the first to turn towards the footsteps, and she let out a cry, pulling away and rushing towards Rivka.

" _Ima!_ " Rivka enveloped her youngest daughter, pressing a kiss to her head. "But, I... I do not-"

"The bombing happened a few days ago. As usual, Israel is just getting the information now." Sarah and Ziva looked up as the second woman spoke and after a moment, Tali pulled away from her mother, going to the other woman. Ziva soon followed suite, hugging her mother tightly before going to each of her aunts. Sarah stayed back, however, wary of the two other women.

The fact that Rivka, Adara and Keshet were identical triplets didn't help matters, especially in regards to the decision to take Sarah and her brother in fifteen years ago. All three women were beautiful brunettes, with tiny features and slight builds. And while they may have been identical, they certainly had different personalities; Keshet was quiet, a bookworm, whereas Adara was outgoing and always looking for adventure. Rivka on the other hand, as the oldest of the three, seemed to be a mix of her sisters- she loved those quiet moments, but also liked a good adventure when she came across one. After letting her oldest daughter go, Rivka turned to her middle child, holding out her arms.

"Come to me, _Sarit_." The young Irish-born didn't move, though tears slipped silently down her cheeks. "Sarah. Come to me." Green eyes darted to both Adara and Keshet, before returning to Rivka, and after a moment, the girl made her way towards the older woman, burrowing into her. Rivka held the girl close, stroking her hair and humming softly as she swayed side to side. "Shh, hush, Sarah, hush. I am okay. We all are." She pressed a kiss to the girl's head, sighing.

Her sisters shared a glance over Rivka's shoulder, an entire conversation passing between the women before Keshet finally spoke up. "This is... Sarah McGee?" Rivka looked up, meeting her sister's gaze; she nodded. The last time Keshet had seen either Sarah or Tim, they'd been children, and it had been a few months after they'd arrived from Ireland. "And her brother-"

"Timothy is... currently in America, on-"

" _Mission_." Ziva ground out, clearly still hurt by her father's decision, even though the new year had passed. She took a seat on the sofa in her father's office, crossing her arms. " _Abba_ sent him, and Tim, being... being the stubborn, brilliant, beautiful... _stubborn_ man he is, went." Her aunts shared a glance, before Adara took a seat beside her, reaching out to take her hand. She studied the ring on Ziva's finger.

"Well, from what your _Ima_ told me, there has been a bit of a... _misunderstanding_... in regards to this ring. Something about... being engaged but not being engaged."

" _What?_ " Suddenly, all worry about the bombing was forgotten as Keshet glanced at her oldest sister. "Rivka, _why did you not say anything?_ "


	52. Chapter 52

**Rifiuto: Non Miren** **a**

 **Thanks to Reader aka Sun Samurai for reviewing 51.**

 _Washington, D.C.,_

 _United States,_

 _2005_

"Tim, it's your _home_."

He shook his head, glancing at the photographs taken of the ruins of what had been his apartment- their latest case of the new year had brought utter destruction to the Irish-born Israeli officer's temporary home. A moment passed, before he turned to Gibbs, his green eyes dead and his voice void of all emotion. He was tired; he wanted to go back to Israel, to slip into their Tel Aviv apartment and beneath the covers of their bed, wrapping around his girlfriend unnoticed, so that when she awoke in the morning, the surprise of being in his arms would be enough for her to consider not going into the agency that day. As was, however, he was still in America, and most likely wouldn't be back in Israel until America's autumn.

"No it's not."Gibbs reached out to cup the younger man's cheek, but Tim pulled away. "My home is in Israel. With Zivaleh." He swallowed thickly. "We should be married by now, with a baby on the way. _Ima_ and _Abba_ should be preparing to meet their first grandchild." After a moment, the younger man reached down, tangling his fingers in the necklace he wore. "This has never been my home. Just like Ireland was never my home. The only home I belong to- the only _real_ home I feel I've ever had- is Israel."

"Tim-" But he returned to his desk, taking a seat and pulling up his e-mail, though he didn't click anything. A moment passed, as the three American agents shared glances, before Gibbs went to the officer's desk, perching on the edge. "Tim. _Officer McGee_." Slowly, Irish eyes met American. With a soft sigh, Gibbs continued, "You have been..." He stopped; Tim watched him. "You've been in the service of two masters for far too long- one far longer than the other, and you need to choose."

"Choose?" Tim asked, a niggling feeling in the back of his head whispering what Gibbs was hinting at; he hoped to God he was wrong.

"You've only been here little over a year, but Director Shepard is willing to extend your liaison position to full-time. Or, the other option she offered was to have you stay as a liaison for the next five years, and then, once the five years are up, you can apply for full-time agent status. Once you get your citizenship, of course."

Tim had to be hearing things. They... wanted him to stay? Full-time liaison position? Full-time agent status? American citizenship? But that... that would mean... that would involve...

 _Renouncing your Israeli citizenship. And leaving everyone you love behind in Israel, probably permanently._

Tim's gaze narrowed after a moment, and he stood, leaning against his desk, palms pressing into the counter top. "I can't just _choose_ , Gibbs!" The older man blinked. "I have a loyalty-"

"That loyalty is misguided, according to Director Shep-"

"No it's not! Eli is my _father_! He raised my sister and I, from the time we were _children_! He kept us alive, when no one else would! Gave us a roof over our heads and food and clothes and... and _love_! _Both he and Ima_!" Gibbs watched the younger man as he began to pace, hands moving wildly in that way that had become so common for the officer when he was riled. "I can't just turn my back on them! On him and Rivka and Israel and... and everything they and _it_ means! That would be like tearing my heart from my chest as it continued to beat!" Out of the corner of his eye, Gibbs saw Kate wince.

"That... it... Israel is my _home_ , you cannot just make me choose... between a country I have lived in all my life and one I have _barely adjusted to_!" He stopped, taking a deep breath. A moment passed, before he turned, to see Director Shepard standing on the catwalk. He moved his gaze back to Gibbs, though he spoke directly to Jenny. "And if you do... if you make me choose..." He swallowed, thinking of her eyes, her smile, that little snort that developed from her laughter. "And if you do-" He stopped, taking a deep breath, voice calmer now. "And if you do, I will choose Israel."

This time, he turned to face Director Shepard. "I will _always_ choose Israel."

Then, without another word, he strode out of the bullpen, towards the elevator. "Should we-" But Gibbs shook his head, silencing Kate.

But Gibbs turned to Shepard. "Well? You have your answer, Director." Then, he was gone, heading towards the elevator. He managed to slip in just before the doors nearly closed; Tim was leaning against the far wall, lost in thought. "You really love this girl?"

Slowly, Tim lifted his head, meeting the other man's gaze. "Have since I was... sixteen..." He stopped. "No, since before that." A sigh escaped his throat. "I... I think I've always loved Ziva, but now..." He met Gibbs's gaze. "How did you do it, Gibbs? Ask your wife to marry you?" The older man moved closer, until they were face-to-face.

"You know about my first wife and my daughter?"

Tim nodded. " _Ken_. I'm sorry." Gibbs nodded, seeing the empathy in Tim's gaze.

"You want to ask her to marry you, don't you? That's why you want to go back to Israel."

Tim met his gaze. "Partly. I miss Israel; I miss my family. As strange as it sounds, I miss Mossad. And yes, Ziva plays a big role in that." He sighed, thinking of the ring he'd left with her. "I gave her my Claddagh ring, and... told her to remember the four meanings of it. I plan on asking her after I've returned."

Gibbs studied the younger man, before nodding. He thought of his own family, long since buried within the dust of time. Gently, he reached up, cradling the younger man by the back of the neck. "Make every moment count, Tim. Don't ever think that one moment is too small or insignificant, because you never know when you'll lose her."


	53. Chapter 53

**Rifiuto: N** **on Miri** **ena**

 **A/N: I'm so sorry about the late uploads; life, marriage, and kids got in the way. Zani's doing better; she took some time off from school, and went back last week, and she told me last week that she feels like she's getting her head back on straight. She also wanted me to let you all know that she and Ev are looking into adopting the daughter of friends of theirs that were recently killed in a car crash and left her in their custody, since they're her godparents. Both wanted me to let you all know that I'll keep you updated on how the adoption's going.- Licia**

 **Thanks to Reader aka Sun Samurai for reviewing 52.**

 _Tel Aviv,_

 _Israel,_

 _2005_

To say Adara and Keshet didn't cause chaos wherever they went would have been an understatement of the highest order; like saying that the sun didn't shine and the moon didn't glow. Just the two of them was enough to give their mother a coronary; but throw Rivka into the mix...

Though she often acted reserved and grown up around her family when she needed to be, Rivka was just as chaotic and childish when she was with her sisters, if not more so. Currently, the three sat in the living room, chatting over cups of coffee and catching up on each others' lives. Adara was lounging in one of the armchairs, and Keshet was curled as close to Rivka as she could possibly get. As the oldest of the three, Rivka felt it always fell to her to look out for her sisters-

 _Just as Ari and Timothy feel it is their duty to look after the girls._

"Riva."

She snapped out of her thoughts, turning to Keshet as the other woman sat up, pulling her legs beneath her. Adara watched with a soft smirk on her face, which she immediately tried hiding behind her mug.

"What? Sorry, did you say something, Kes?"

The younger woman chuckled, tucking a wayward strand of hair behind her ear. Four minutes younger than Rivka and two minutes older than Adara, Keshet made it her business to know everything in regards to her sisters' lives; though she worked as a florist in Jerusalem, she was known for having an active imagination, and often jotted down ideas for novels she hoped to someday write on note pads. At eighteen, Keshet had chopped her hair off; she now wore it in a flyaway bob that just graced her chin- unlike Rivka, who was used to jeans and t-shirts, and Adara, who chose capris and tank tops with sneakers, Keshet was more Bohemian- loose tops and flowy skirts with sandals.

"When will Timothy return?" Rivka glanced at Adara, who quietly sipped her coffee.

"Timothy-"

"Will return within the year." The triplets looked up as Ziva entered the living room, a cup of tea in her hands. " _Abba_ promised. He _promised_." Then, without a word, she stormed off, slamming the door to the bedroom behind her. Rivka jumped, and Keshet hissed softly.

"Zivaleh seems to be taking it hard-"

"She blames Eli for sending Timothy to America. And honestly, I do not blame her. A small part of me blames Eli, too." Rivka set her cup on the table, standing and going into the kitchen, unaware of the glances her sisters shared. A moment passed before both women scrambled up to join her.

"Then why did Timothy go?" Keshet asked, taking a seat at the island. Rivka sighed, setting the bowl of hummus Sarah had made that morning on the counter.

"Because Eli and I raised him right." She whispered. "We raised him to do the right thing, to do a job when he is given one, and to never turn down a request. Sometimes I wish Eli and I had not raised Timothy to be such a gentleman."

"Well, if you look at it that way, then you should not have raised Ari to be a gentleman, or the girls to be such ladies." Adara finally spoke up, snagging a carrot from the tray and quickly swiping it through the hummus before taking a bite. She had spent a year and a half at college for Psychology before deciding it wasn't for her and dropping out; eight months later, she'd gotten a job as a tour guide in Amman and now ran her own tour guide business.

Keshet rolled her eyes. "Ziva, Tali and Sarah? Ladies?" Adara chuckled and even Rivka cracked a smile as she took a seat at the island. They fell into silence for several minutes before,

"So Timothy and Ziva are engaged. Or are they not engaged? Ziva tried explaining it but she did nothing but stutter and stammer more than make sense. I haven't heard her stammer that much in... well, ever." Rivka met Adara's gaze, setting down her mug. "Is she _hârâh_?"

Keshet choked on her tea, setting the mug down quickly. " _Pregnant? Our_ Ziva? Ara, how dare you suggest such a thing! That would require-" She stopped at Rivka's soft chuckle. "Well, we all know that neither Timothy nor Ziva are virgins. Honestly, I would be surprised if Ziva was still virginal in any sense of the word, but that's besides the point-"

"The what _is_ the point, Kesi? Please, get to it before Riva and I die of natural causes." Keshet glared at her sister.

"You do not have a little grandchild on the way, do you, Riva?"

The oldest of the three snorted, shaking her head. "No. Zivaleh has made it _very_ clear that she is not pregnant, and while she would love to have a family with Timothy, that will have to wait until they are both a little older and Timothy has returned from America. Though she wishes, wishes do not become reality overnight, and certainly not within a year."

"It sounds like Zivaleh will have to learn patience then." Adara said.

Rivka snorted softly. "From your mouth to God's ears, Ara. From your mouth to God's ears."


End file.
